


Two Night Stand

by Seraph_Novak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bi-Curiosity, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Break Up, Denial, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Hand Jobs, Hook-Up, Humor, M/M, Making Up, New Year's Eve, One Night Stands, Party, Snowed In, Socially Awkward Castiel, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:58:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4371101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraph_Novak/pseuds/Seraph_Novak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel wasn't gay, he swore he wasn't. Dean Winchester was just some random guy that invited him over to... talk. But when the couple become snowed in the following day, they're forced to face up to their previous relations. Movie AU - slight smut towards the middle.</p><p>Just a little something-something I originally uploaded on Fanfiction. Working-progress. Please enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

"I'm  _27_ …"

Castiel couldn't believe it; here he was, standing outside a nightclub in the bitter cold trying to convince some body guard (who was clearly denser than he looked) that he  _was_  in fact old enough to drink alcohol and get royally fucked, as Gabriel chose to put it.

The guy scoffed "Not with that skin, you're not. It's smoother than a baby's backside."

He wasn't sure if he should be offended or over the moon.

"Look, my lil' bro here's just had a bad run-in with his ex…" Gabriel slapped a hand onto the guard's shoulder "Give him a break, would ya?"

Castiel flinched at the mention of Hannah, the stunning woman with the crystal blue eyes and jet black hair that had somehow came into his life, stolen his heart, and then left him feeling like a complete and utter chump after running off to his brother, Balthazar.

"ID, then you can get in." He sounded pretty adamant.

Gabriel, who by this point had wedged the strawberry lollipop he'd initially been sucking between his fingers, as if to prove he meant business, continued "Yes, he's friggin  _adorable_ with those baby blues, and we're all so  _horribly_  jealous of him, but check out that 5 o'clock shadow!"

Castiel rubbed his jaw self-consciously; he couldn't go without shaving for a few hours without that damn beard sprouting up again.

The guard scarcely flinched "I got facial hair when I was 8 years old."

_Way to go, Gabriel._

He was now checking his pockets once more, as if his wallet would magically appear somewhere amongst his trenchcoat if he looked hard enough.

It was useless "You know what, Gabriel…" He sighed "I'm just going to go home."

His golden-eyed brother went to object, but found himself suddenly distracted by a rather tall, young man sporting some lovely, brown locks. The man shuffled past, handing his ID over to the body guard and offering them a small, polite smile before heading inside the club.

Gabriel licked his lips briefly, eyes sparkling.

Castiel smiled softly "Just go have fun, Gabe." He wasn't one for nicknames, but it seemed like the appropriate time.

The shorter man grinned, shoving a thumbs-up into Castiel's face "You got it, Cassie!"

* * *

It wasn't long before he found himself trudging home through the snow, trenchcoat providing all the warmth he needed, humming along to Joey Scarbury's "Believe it or not" as he went.

The sky was clear, despite threats of an upcoming blizzard. He couldn't help but shake his head a little as he stumbled up the icy steps leading to his apartment; did the weathermen  _ever_ get it right?

"Chickened out, Clarence?"

Castiel sighed at the dark haired woman who greeted him immediately at the door. He and Meg had had a fling back in college, but were now strictly 'besties' (another of Gabriel's famous words) and shared an apartment together. Most people couldn't get past the fact that neither one of them was gay; they'd been confronted about their relationship on numerous occasions.

"I left my wallet, along with my ID."

Meg swigged the bottle of orange liquid in her hand and nodded towards the kitchen "On the table… now get outta here!"

He sighed, slumping onto the sofa "I think I'd prefer to stay at home."

Before he knew it, Meg had leapt into the space next to him, her dark eyes glaring at his doleful expression "Shit, you saw that Anna again, didn't you?"

" _Hannah_." He corrected her sternly, still slightly territorial over his ex.

"If it looks like a duck…" Castiel tilted his head in confusion "Forget about it."

The pair sat there for a moment; it wasn't an awkward silence, there just wasn't much more to say on the matter.

Meg flicked Castiel's ear briskly, receiving a sharp groan of pain "Let's get you back on the horse, then." She sounded bored, almost, but that was just Meg.

"I don't think-"

"Can it, Clarence!" She swatted away his objections "I know a place."

He couldn't help but cringe "A club…?"

"Pfft." She tittered, grabbing her laptop from off the coffee table and tapping a few keys "A website. A  _dating_ website."

Castiel chuckled lightly "I don't believe that me and  _dating sites_ would cooperate well."

Meg busied herself typing in the right address "That's why I'm here to do all the heavy lifting."

She really was quite beautiful, Castiel observed (as he often did), even when she was furiously punching her keyboard with brute force. It was a kind of thorny beauty that only contributed to her shrewd nature, emphasised by the dark features against pale skin she'd acquired. If he hadn't come to think of Meg as his little sister, he might have felt the urge to act on his attraction. But, they'd had a go at that in the past and it just didn't feel right; couples can only be polar opposites to a certain extent, he believed.

"Ah, he we are..." She grinned "Guys in Gear. com"

Castiel's eyebrows shot up "G-Guys?"

She cast him a mischievous look " _In gear_."

"But-"

"You're not a raging homo, right?" Meg flexed her fingers and loosened her shoulders "But you will be after I'm through with you."

He tilted his head, using those puppy-dog eyes on her "Meg…?"

"Beer. Vodka.  _Now._ "

He daren't argue with her, not after last time… With a groan, he forced himself up and into the kitchen to fetch the alcohol, knowing too well that he'd have to drink at least a dozen shots before he'd even feel a twinge; he was insanely resistant to drink.

"I think you may have lost your mind," He called from the fridge "I've not once felt something for someone of the same sex as me."

"And look where it's getting you!" Was her reply "Surrounding yourself in eligible women clearly isn't working, so why not try something different?"

He repositioned himself on the sofa, lining the shot glasses carefully across the table and filling them to equal heights. The smell was sharp, but nothing he wasn't used to after 8 years of living with Meg.

"Why? You're not homophobic, are you?" She jabbed an accusing finger at his chest.

Castiel could feel his cheeks pinkening ever so slightly "No, of course not." He crossed his arms over his chest defensively "I accept all sexualities."

"Good."

And that was that.

"Let's set you up a profile…" Meg clicked a few buttons and spun the laptop around so Castiel could see "Time to choose a profile picture."

He furrowed his brow, not quite sure what his roommate was trying to achieve from all of this, before taking control of the computer. After a short browse through Meg's gallery, he settled on a photo of them both standing beneath a waterfall, grinning like idiots "This one?"

She recoiled "Holy- I'll have to crop my face out."

"What? Why?!" Castiel blurted, slightly off put by the idea of using a picture  _just_ of himself (even if that was kind of the point).

Meg didn't have to explain why, so instead she shot him daggers with her dark eyes and went about removing herself from the photo "That's better."

He didn't agree, but decided against complaining and took his first shot, welcoming the burning sensation that cleared his throat.

After a moment's silence, Meg snorted from behind her laptop and smirked up at a rather anxious-looking Castiel "What do your hobbies include?" She asked the question in a mockingly polite tone of voice, awaiting his answer with a supressed chuckle.

"Seriously?" She nodded "Um… I suppose I  _do_ enjoy a good walk."

He gave her time to type as she snickered "You sound  _so_ gay right now."

That may or may not have made him shiver.

"What else?"

He shrugged "Sex?"

Meg gave him the look " _Everyone_ on this site loves sex. That's the idea."

Castiel laughed lightly, knowing perfectly well how to wind his friend up "How about reading?"

"Geez, Clarence. What with the long walks on the beach and a passion for literature, you're starting to come across as a  _really_   _exciting_ dude…" But she typed in the information all the same.

He fidgeted in his seat, slightly offended by the sarcastic comment "I don't get out much." He downed his second shot.

"Yeah, I know." She smiled "Now you love deep-sea diving, bike rides and baking."

" _Baking_?!" Castiel found the word offensive.

Meg simply shrugged "If you were gay, you'd definitely be the girly one."

"You try telling Gabriel that baking is unmanly and then get back to me." He pouted.

She considered that, wrinkled her nose and then continued "What's your favourite film?"

He stiffened "Um…"

They both knew that Castiel was far from familiar with anything remotely similar to a movie "Maybe we'll just skip that one, then." Meg decided finally.

"Food?"

"Burgers." Castiel answered immediately "And pork rinds…"

She shook her head lightly, but she was smiling "Colour?"

"Blue."

"Animal?"

He grinned "Bees…"

_Cas and those damn honey bees…_

"Place of interest?"

Castiel resisted the urge to say the Metropolitan Museum in New York, where he'd first met Hannah. She'd been squinting at a painting for over a half an hour and he'd just watched her, mesmerised.

"Skip it."

Meg gave him a sympathetic look, like she knew what he was thinking "Why don't we just leave it there and get to the good stuff, huh?"

He swallowed thickly "Yes, that sounds like a good idea."

While she finished perfecting his account, Castiel took it upon himself to drink another 5 shots, determined to get himself plastered; it's not as if he actually expected to go along with this, but it would take his mind off Hannah all the same.

"Done." Meg eventually said, twisting the laptop around to Castiel "See anyone you fancy?"

It was a ludicrous question, considering Castiel wasn't gay and therefore didn't feel inclined to voice his physical attraction to any of the men joined up on this site. It was strictly homosexual, with around 40% of the men having a tick next to the word 'gear' under their profile picture; some wore police outfits, some chef hats or typical teacher get-ups, and others posed in builders' overalls.

He loosened his collar "Um… I'm not sure about this, Meg."

"Live a little!" She leaned over to grab a shot of vodka "Dicks aren't scary, I promise."

"You do realize I have a penis, don't you?"

"It sure didn't feel like it when we dated…" Her eyebrows quirked mischievously.

Castiel felt his face turn hot "Ass-butt."

She pinched his cheek "You know you love me."

He swatted her away and began scrolling down the list of available guys (he didn't mind if they were with or without 'gear'). The vast majority of them were in their early 40's, with an odd few reaching their 50's and the rest around the late 20's to mid-30's mark. He focussed primarily on the latter age group, not wanting anyone who exceeded his own age by more than a few years.

Hesitantly, he clicked on someone called 'Barry', his username being barryevans4thewin.  _Wow_.

"Who've you found there?" Meg craned her neck to get a peek and grunted at the god-awful username.

Castiel blushed "I was just browsing, like you told me to." Then, feeling like he needed to clarify his sexuality, he added "It's not like I'm actually going to meet up with any of them. I'm  _straight_ , Meg."

She rolled her eyes "Stop defending your masculinity; there's such a thing as bi, remember?"

He flushed a deeper shade of red and continued to scroll down, ignoring Barry's rather  _intriguing_  profile.

"Oh, oh!" She almost choked on her drink "Go back! Go back!"

Castiel sighed, but obeyed all the same.

"Well, hello…" Meg grinned sinfully, nodding her head towards someone under the username chevyimpala67. His name was Dean.

Even Castiel couldn't deny that this Dean fella was attractive; his skin was slightly tanned and decorated lightly with freckles that arched up his face and over his nose. His eyes were a luscious shade of green that twinkled playfully in his photo and were shaded by lovely, long lashes that curled at the ends. His hair was a sandy brown that tufted at the fridge; not in that gel-slick teenager kind of way, but a natural, 'I just woke up like this' kind of way.  _And those lips!_ People said that Castiel had full lips, but Dean's were almost womanly, in a sexy kind of way…

He immediately shook himself out of his daze and shrugged "He's OK looking, I suppose."

Meg just gawped at him " _Really_?! Come on, he's  _hot_!"

Castiel fought the urge to blush "I said he's OK. But like I've already informed you, I'm not a homosexual."

"Well, Dean certainly is…" Meg giggled, which just sounded wrong in her skin.

A quick glance at his profile told them that Dean's surname was Winchester, he had a brother, his favourite movies usually starred Clint Eastwood, his favourite food was bacon cheeseburgers (emphasis on the bacon), his favourite stooge was Curley, he was just looking for a casual fling as he was already in a committed relationship with his car (which Castiel had to chuckle at), he loved Metallica and he was allergic to cats.

"Well," Castiel coughed "He certainly likes to put himself out there, doesn't he?"

Meg sighed "Nothing wrong with being open, Clarence. You should try it now and again"

Choosing to ignore her, Castiel flicked through Dean's gallery and learned a new fact; Dean  _really_ liked flannel.

"I'm not gay." He said pointedly, pushing the laptop away and taking his 8th, maybe 9th shot of the night. He could just about feel the stress of the day receding.

"Hey there. Nice profile – like your car." Meg spoke aloud whilst typing.

It was a while before Castiel caught on "Wait,  _what_ are you doing?!"

"Messaging Dean." She said matter-of-factly.

He spluttered "W-Why?!"

"'Cus he's hot, you're single, and it's time for a change."

Castiel growled, throwing back another 2 shots "I hate you."

"Yeah, yeah…" She waved him off "You said that at the Christmas party after I swapped your drink for vinegar and look at us now."

He rolled his eyes.

A couple of minutes past and Castiel was sure Dean was ignoring him (or Meg), when there was a sudden 'bleep'.

Meg raised her eyebrows and read the message off the screen "Hey yourself. Thanks, she's my baby. Got her when I was 21 and haven't looked back. See you prefer a walk, yourself."

Castiel squirmed; he was itching to take the laptop and converse with this stranger. He had no sexual intentions, but he was curious about this 'Dean Winchester' with the leather jacket and beat-up old car he claimed to be his 'baby'.

"There's already some flirty banter going on." Meg teased "Do  _you_ want to message him back?"

He ran his finger along the rim of an empty shot glass gingerly.

"Hey, I won't judge you! Why don't you just talk as friends for a while?"

Castiel blinked "But you said everyone on this website was looking for sex?"

"Ever heard of friends with benefits?" She winked.

At her roommate's fierce blush, she handed over the laptop and retreated to the kitchen for more alcohol and snacks.

Castiel breathed slowly, his hands hovering over the keyboard reluctantly.  _This is not gay._ He thought to himself.  _I'm simply interested in this man's backstory._

Convinced by himself, he began to type

_Yes. Walking helps clear my head, not that there's much to clear half of the time. Though I do own a car myself._

He awaited Dean's reply eagerly; it came through within the minute

**You don't seem like the vacant type to me? Tell me what's on your mind.**

Shocked by the sincerity of this stranger's sudden interest in 'what was on his mind', Castiel poured himself another shot and threw it back with a gasp.

_Well, if you must know, I'm still recovering from a bad break up. My friend signed me up here for mad, angry gay-sex._

**Ha, that's the best kind of sex. Tell me about your ex.**

_There's not much to tell. She (yes, she) was the love of my life, or so I thought. Then she decided to have sex with my brother in our bed._

**Ouch. So, you straight or bi? I'm guessing the latter.**

_Actually…_

He paused, unsure if he should reveal his sexuality to Dean straight away. There was something intriguing about him, Castiel would admit, and now that they'd got chatting, he didn't want to scare him off.

_Yes, I'm bi. Is that OK?_

**Hey, you don't need my permission! Anything's fine with me.**

_Have you ever been with a woman?_

**Of course; they're beautiful creatures. But I wouldn't say no to a nice, long-**

Castiel snapped the lid shut, face burning, as Meg joined him on the sofa once more.

"Hey!" She complained, a crate of beer and two bags of pork rinds in her hands "What are you doing!"

He wriggled in his seat, reaching for a beer "It was getting a little graphic for my taste."

She rolled her eyes and snatched the computer out of his hands, opening it up to reveal the conversation so far "Oh…  _Oh_..." She chewed her bottom lip "Oh, he  _does_ have a way with words…"

Castiel blushed "Let me see!"

Dean's message ended as he'd expected, making his cheeks ever warmer.

**You still there, Cas?**

He jolted at the nickname, but didn't mind too much.

_Yeah, sorry… connection cut off._

**Sure it wasn't because I said a bad word? ;)**

_I'm 27, not 7._

**Yeah, what's with your insanely good complexion?**

_A healthy diet works wonders, Dean. Perhaps you should lay off_ _the pies._

He made reference to Dean's profile, recalling that although his favourite food was bacon cheese burgers, his favourite dessert was most definitely pie.

**NO. YOU LEAVE MY PIE ALONE.**

_Are you talking dirty to me?_

Castiel blushed at his own forwardness. Was he actually flirting with a  _man_ over the internet?

**Only if you want me to.**

All confusion aside, Castiel found himself shivering when the stranger spoke so bluntly, as if this were the most casual conversation in the world. He decided to go along with it, even if he was  _uber- straight_ and had no plans of meeting up with Dean whatsoever. It was just a bit of fun, like Meg had said.

_And who said that I did?_

**Well, if you change your mind, just let me know.**

_Will do. So, tell me more about this car of yours. What makes her so special?_

**She's sex on wheels, for one thing. Definite chick-magnet.**

Castiel paused, slightly taken aback.

**No, you're not the only open-minded guy here. Like I said earlier, women are beautiful creatures. But don't worry, men are my favourite.**

_That's good to hear. To tell you the truth, I've never really been with a man before._

Well, it  _was_ the truth!

**Interesting. So, are you new to the whole 'I like penis' thing, or…?**

Castiel laughed out loud, ignoring Meg's smirks.

_I guess you could say that. I've only been in love once and it was with a woman. All through high school, I dated a couple of girls. Then in college, I went with my best friend for a few months. We're roommates now; no awkward feelings!_

**Wow, you sound like a great guy.**

_Why do you say that?_

**You dated your best friend in college and now, instead of acting like a scared little bitch and dropping her like a sack of potatoes, you're actually living together without any kind of sexual frustration whatsoever! Impressive.**

He'd never thought about it like that before, but something about this complete stranger  _not_ thinking he was a bitch made him smile. What was happening here?

_Well, thank you. I've never actually considered that. So, the car… sorry if I sound like a broken record, but something tells me that it's of the upmost importance to you. I'm interested._

Dean fell silent for a few of minutes; Castiel took advantage of the moment by taking a couple more shots (he was definitely starting to feel something now) and opening another beer. A reply came through.

**Why don't we discuss it at my place?**

Castiel whimpered, knowing that the conversation would now have to come an end. Of course he couldn't go around to Dean Winchester's house, wherever the hell that was, and have gay sex when he wasn't, repeat  _wasn't_ gay!

"What's up?" Meg asked from the opposite side of the sofa.

He hesitated "He's asking me to come over."

With that, Meg swiped the laptop out of Castiel's grasp and skimmed through the conversation, wide-eyed like a 12 year old "Woah. There's undeniable chemistry going on here, Clarence."

She seemed genuinely surprised

"But, you're the one who signed me up!" Castiel argued with Meg's stunned expression.

She stuttered "Yeah, as a  _joke_! I didn't think you'd actually  _meet_ someone. I mean… you're straight!"

He nodded absentmindedly "Exactly."

"Cas…?"

"I am!" He snapped, heat rising in his cheeks.

"Well, you and this Dean seem to be getting on like a house on fire, if anything!"

"What should I do?"

She frowned slightly "How long have you kept him hanging?"

Castiel glanced at Dean's message and then at the clock "About 3 minutes."

"He'll be panicking, now." She muttered "You could at least reply."

"And say what, exactly? Sorry, but I'm actually  _not_ gay, I was just enjoying our conversation, so I led you on and I apologise?!"

Meg shrugged "Or you could just make it clear that you're not looking for sex tonight and go around  _strictly_ as a friend."

He considered it for a moment, shoulders tense "Um, OK. I-I'll ask him now…"

_Dean? You still there?_

**Yeah, of course. You OK? Did I come on too strong?**

_No… well, yes. Sort of. It's not your fault._

**I'm sorry, Cas. I'm a very 'out-there' kind of guy. Just ignore me.**

_It's me who should be apologising. I flirted back._

**So, I'm guessing your politely declining my offer :(**

Castiel felt a lump in his throat. What the hell was this Dean Winchester doing to him?!

_Well, I could always come around and talk. If that's not cheeky…_

There was a moment's pause and Castiel could feel his body trembling.

**Sure! I'd like that. Here's my address.**

Castiel swore he was vaguely familiar with the area Dean lived in, though not 100%. He'd have to take his car and use the satnav and oh my Jesus good god he was about to drive up to an openly-bisexual man's house 'to talk' in what might end up being the worst decision he ever made…

_OK. I'll meet you in half an hour?_

**Sounds great! Seya then x**

He shivered at the kiss Dean had left him in the message, feeling like a teenager all over again. Then it hit him smack-bam in the face.

_Wait!_

**You OK?**

_Do you mind if we video chat first? I don't want to walk straight into a serial killer's lair…_

**Ha, of course. Good idea.**

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief and requested the chat. Within a few moments, he was face to face with Dean on webcam, struggling to keep down his blush.

"Hey!" The younger man grinned "You're much cuter than in your photo."

He gasped slightly, face flushed whilst Meg try to supress her laughter "Uh, th-thank you?"

Dean winked "So, do I pass the test?"

He moved his laptop around the room slowly, showing off his apartment to assure Castiel that he didn't have any bodies stored downstairs. Though, he'd like to think that Dean didn't have bodies stored  _anywhere_  in the house…

"Oh, yes! I suppose you do." He smiled awkwardly "So… should I-"

"Get your feathery-ass down here right this instant?" Dean interrupted "Heck, yeah!"

Castiel wasn't sure what inspired that nickname, but he couldn't hold back his grin "Y-Yes, I'll see you soon, I guess."

"Later, Cas!" Dean gave a small salute before his image cut out.

Once he'd jotted the address down, making sure to check it twice, and closed the laptop, Castiel let out a shaky breath. Did he really want to do this? Four hours ago, he was hopelessly fawning over his  _female_ ex, and now he was contemplating meeting up with Dean Winchester, the man he'd met on a gay dating site. That was how messed up his life was.

"So…" Meg chuckled "You pulled, then."

He glared at her "I'm  _not_ gay, Meg! We're meeting as  _friends_!"

She raised her hands in defeat jokingly "Just remember to lube up; the first time must be a real squeeze, I can imagine…"

His cheeks were beaming now as he grabbed his trenchcoat and headed towards the door, not before flipping off a rather amused Meg.


	2. The morning after

This wasn't his bed, or his house for that matter. Usually, Castiel would be woken up by the sound of Meg (the early bird that she was) clanging pots and pans, or perhaps the tone of his alarm clock if he hadn't slept through it already. But today, he was stirred by the unmistakable grunts and snores of a semi-naked man sprawled out beside him.

He gasped silently, almost falling off the edge of the king-size bed he appeared to have spent the night in. The stranger had his one leg stretched out onto Castiel's side, whilst the other was hanging loosely off the mattress, and his arms were stuffed beneath his pillow.

"Hey," Castiel hissed "You, there! Hello?"

He glanced around the room, taking note of the toppled over furniture and discarded sheets on the floor. A sudden, dull throb pounded his head and he winced, massaging his temples gently. Hangovers were certainly not a regular occurrence in Castiel's life; he must have drunk  _way_ too much the night before.

Then it hit him with incredible force. Banging headache plus stranger in bed plus lack of clothing plus no memory of what the hell happened last night equalled  _big_ trouble.

The kind of trouble you land yourself in when you have sex with a bisexual stranger.

A  _male_ bisexual stranger.

When you're not even gay.

_What the fuck_.

Castiel sprang out of the bed and lunged for his clothes, which seemed to be dotted around the room in the most unlikely of places. He was reaching for his boxers dangling from the ceiling fan when a voice made him jump.

"You OK there, Cas?" His words were still dripping with alcohol and fatigue.

Castiel squeaked, hiding his nether regions with trembling hands "I-I was just… um…"

The stranger sat up in bed and offered a sluggish smile "Running out on me?"

He could feel his face heating up "S-Sorry, I-"

"Nah, don't worry about it." The man replied softly "Happens all the time!"

That somehow didn't make him feel like any less of a douchebag, so he sat himself down on the foot of the bed sheepishly "I must sound like an idiot, but I'm afraid I can't remember your name…"

That made him chuckle "Dean. It's Dean Winchester."

Memories stretching back from his encounter with Hannah up to his lips pressed against this man suddenly flooded his mind and his mouth dropped.

Dean grinned "It all coming back to you,  _lover_?"

Castiel cringed "Yes."

"Then you probably remember," Dean pushed himself from off the bed and dragged his feet across the room "How you made noises hardly detectable to the human ear?"

Now his face was burning "N-No, I can't recall that."

Dean flicked a switch on the wall, initiating the fan above so that the sudden motion caused the boxers to drop down onto Castiel's lap "You want breakfast?"

Before he had time to answer, the green-eyed man had disappeared into the next room, now stark naked without a care in the world. Castiel  _had_  to get out of here.

He fumbled for his mobile, which was luckily still in his back pocket, and scrolled through his contacts until he came across Meg's name.

_I think we may have had sex, but I can't remember properly. Help!_

When Dean reappeared with a bowl of something steaming, he had to slip his phone away quickly and smile.

"One bowl of…  _porridge_ , I think it is. I dunno, I don't eat this crap."

Castiel gave a small chuckle and took the bowl politely, peering down at the smooth, cream-coloured food in his hands; 5 blueberries had been arranged into a smiley face on the surface and he couldn't help but blush at the kind gesture.

"Thank you, Dean."

"You're very welcome, Cas." He grinned whilst tearing a strip of bacon from his own plate and popping it into his mouth.

A welcome silence followed, with both men quietly eating their breakfast and exchanging small, awkward glances regularly.

"Uh, so…" Dean set his plate aside after a while and coughed into his hand "About last night…"

Castiel followed his lead, knotting his fingers together shyly "Yes, I think it's about time we discussed that."

"You must do this kinda thing all the time, right?"

He was so stunned by the sudden accusation, it took him a moment to respond "E-Excuse me?"

Dean threw his head back and chuckled "The whole 'I'm not gay, so let's just  _talk_ ' thing? A real turn on, I must admit."

Castiel clutched at the sheets desperately, now feeling far more self-conscious of his bare skin than he had done earlier "I'm  _not_ gay!" His voice broke with panic.

He couldn't remember how last night's events had played out, but he liked to think that despite the high possibility that he  _had_  had sex with a man, he was still very much straight.

"Really?" Dean eyed him suspiciously "Are we gonna drag this out  _now_?"

Castiel could only muster the energy to frown at the freckled stranger now glaring at him from across the bed. Sure, after having awkward, unprepared sex, this conversation was never going to be pleasant, but he had hoped that it would at least be civil.

"I'm not some homosexual  _slut-bag_!" He managed after a while, though his choice of wording wasn't exactly what he'd expected to come out with.

Dean smirked "Well, at least you didn't charge."

"I'm not a male escort, either…"

"That's what I said!" He raised his hands in the air slightly "I'm not judging you or anything, but you did kinda pick me up from a site called 'Guys in Gear'…"

" _Excuse me?!_ " Castiel wailed "You were on the site in the first place! And I didn't pick you up; I merely started a conversation with you.  _You're_  the one who asked me to come around to your apartment."

"And  _you're_ the one who said you wanted to 'talk' and then decided to jump me within the first 5 minutes of our conversation!"

"I did not-" Well, considering last night was a blur, he could very well have been the one to make the first move.

"Exactly."

Castiel pushed a blueberry down into the porridge, watching it become engulfed by a mass of oats, and huffed "Well, it's nice to know how highly you think of me."

"Dude," Dean flicked something at the older man's cheek (cheese, perhaps?) and grinned "I think you're a  _god_ … I mean, last night,  _wow_. You just… you could do this thing with your-"

He stopped at Castiel's expression, one of utter humiliation, and everything fell into place.

"Oh. You, uh… you really are straight, then?"

Castiel couldn't so much as look at the man, let alone respond, so he offered a meek nod instead.

You could cut the tension with a knife as both men finished their breakfast silently with eyes fixated on anything and  _everything_ that wasn't each other, mentally trying to swab away any graphic images of one another's genitals for the sake of their own dignity.

After a while, it was Dean who landed his plate on the bedside table with a frustrated grunt and turned to face the blue-eyed man trembling on his bed "So, you used me?"

Castiel gawped at the boldness of the question "I-I… no, I-"

"You thought: hey, gay guys are desperate, right? How 'bout I go get steaming drunk and have hideous, homosexual relations with a man I don't know!"

He blinked rapidly as Dean let his mouth take over.

"You and your friend, your ex- _girlfriend_  for that matter, thought it would be friggin hilarious to mess around with the hopelessly desperate mother fuckers of the internet, right?!"

Castiel shook his head in small, desperate motions and managed to jump into the conversation "No, that's not how it happened!"

"What, so you  _are_ gay?" Dean raised his eyebrows, knowing that he had this stranger in a trap "Because you've either just discovered your sexuality and given into a long-lasting desire,  _or_ you simply wanted to let off some steam and figured that  _my kind_ was offering it on a plate."

"Neither!" Castiel exclaimed, his usual low, gravelly voice reaching a new high "You're really not being fair, Dean…"

The man scoffed " _I'm_ not being fair?! I've just been made some straight guy's  _bitch_!"

"I think I'm done with this discussion," His voice cracked ever-so slightly "I'm sorry to have caused you such embarrassment, but it truly wasn't my intention to be deceitful…"

Dean batted away his apologises "Yeah, whatever, Cas."

"It's  _Castiel_ …"

"Really? Because that name kinda sucks… it sucks ass  _big time_."

Castiel wrinkled his nose in distaste "I'm named after an angel of the lord.  _You're_ named after a statesman…"

Dean's face contorted with confusion for a second, before unravelling with rage once again "Yeah, like I said,  _whatever_ … door's that way!"

He pointed out the front door like the stranger might have difficulty finding it and sneered "You know, the one you shoved me against last night when you were begging me to ride you like a friggin cowboy!"

Castiel's face burnt with shame as he grabbed his trenchcoat and slipped through the door, not even bothering to respond to the man's childish taunts.

* * *

He weaved down the steps clumsily whilst trying to adjust his tie, knowing too well that it would simply find a way to twist itself around in the end. Anything to keep his mind off last night,  _or_  the conversation that had taken place 2 minutes earlier, for that matter.

His phone suddenly vibrated against his thigh.

**What?! Clarence, you little slut…**

He felt his face flush as he leaned against the staircase wearily.

_Just don't. Turns out Dean Winchester is an inarticulate ass-butt._

Sure, that wasn't exactly true; Castiel had actually been pretty impressed by the freckled stranger's quick-tongue. But, it was far easier to insult him right now.

**Shame, I kinda liked the idea of having a gay best friend to compare outfits with.**

_Not all gay men are womanly, Meg._

**Did I touch a nerve?**

_No, I'm simply stating the obvious. Now what about my little problem?_

**Just leave! Don't worry; I won't spill your secret.**

_I'm heading towards the exit as we speak. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll disown you faster than you can manage to muster a half-hearted apology._

**Geez. Paranoid, are we? I'm fishing out the vodka – I'll have 8 shots lined up for you when you get back. I get the feeling this will be easier to discuss when we're shitfaced.**

Castiel winced at the idea of drinking so early in the morning, but he certainly didn't welcome the notion of being sober for this conversation.

His face lighted up when an exit finally came into view, the sign still glowing in the darkness of a winter's morn. Soon, all of this would be nothing but a bad memory. Perhaps it would be a story to tell the grandkids one day (when they were old enough, of course), because, obviously Castiel would have a  _wife_ in the future…

He practically flung himself at the door, expecting to be greeted by a delightful blast of cool air. But, instead, a sharp pain rippled through his shoulder at the sudden impact, sending his entire body stumbling backwards.

For a brief moment, he began to panic. What if he couldn't get out? What if he was stuck in this building with  _Dean Winchester_ , forced to confront every hideous detail of last night?

Then his mind slowly went back into cycle; he was just getting ahead of himself, of course. With a feeble titter, he tried once more. Nothing.

He searched for a lock of some sort, or perhaps a button he had to press.

_Oh, god…_

"I'm telling you, Sam," A familiar voice emerged from the staircase, followed by slow, heavy footsteps "I've got it worse. No, no… I don't give a damn if you licked whipped cream off some midget's nipples,  _mine_ was actually refusing point-blank that he was gay!"

Castiel blushed an angry red; who did this Dean think he was?

"Seriously? Just, don't touch that lollipop ever again… get rid of it,  _now_!" Dean sounded exasperated as he spoke, but the gentle undertone suggested that he was talking to a close relative "Get this –  _Castiel_ , that was his name. No joke. What a fucking dick-bag-"

He stopped mid-sentence as he caught sight of Castiel, who was still very much  _there_ , in his building, looking pissed.

"Ah, Sam… I gotta go. Just get rid of that dude, would ya?!"

He hung up, slipping his phone into the basket of laundry he was carrying, and ogled the blue-eyed man stood before him. If this was a cartoon, Dean was sure there'd be steam coming out of his ears.

"So, you're still here?"

Castiel rolled his eyes "Yes. Your door doesn't seem to open very well."

Dean placed the basket on the steps carefully "Just takes a bit of man power, is all." He grinned at Castiel "Gays can be strong, too, ya know?"

He wasn't sure where Dean had got this idea that he was homophobic or something, but he couldn't help but feel offended "I accept all sexualities." He repeated his words from last night "And I don't appreciate stereotypes."

Dean didn't bother to reply; he simply positioned his shoulder against the door, holding the handle down simultaneously, drew back and slammed his weight against it.

Not so much as a creak.

He bounced his eyebrows bashfully at Castiel, feeling like his masculinity had been contradicted, and tried again with the same amount of luck.

And then it hit him "Oh, damn it…"

"What?!" Castiel whimpered.

"Looks like we did get that blizzard after all."

Both men struggled to squeeze against the door as they tried to catch a glimpse of just how bad the weather was. What once was a series of buildings and pavements was now obscured by blinding white; a thick barricade of snow had plastered itself against the building, preventing all chances of escape and ultimately sealing them in.

Together.

Castiel let out a long, low moan of terror and slunk to the floor "Oh, no…"

"Ha…" Dean rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly "Well, guess you're staying a little while longer, then."

* * *

_"Intentions of travelling? Fancying a road trip? Well, cancel your plans and sit tight, because it ain't gonna happen…"_

Castiel groaned, his head in his hands, whilst Dean grinned from the opposite end of the sofa.

" _We're getting record amounts of snowfall all throughout the area. With what could possibly be the city's worst blizzard in years, I wouldn't hold my breath-"_

The screen blipped out with a pitiful whine as the snow howled against the windows.

"Aw, shit…"

"Well," Castiel sighed "I suppose that's just my luck; 8 hours after my first homosexual encounter and I'm forced to spend the following day with an angry bisexual man in an over-crowded apartment."

Dean pouted "Yeah, my feelings are torn to shreds…"

"I understand that you're upset-"

" _Dude_ , I've had more one night stands than you've had Sunday dinners…"

Castiel shrugged "It wouldn't surprise me, being that my only family consists of a sweet-tooth brother and alcoholic roommate; such formal gatherings are not exactly common."

The freckled man almost seemed sympathetic for a moment, but tried to hide it instantly by forcing out a laugh "And that's not including the brother that slept with the love of your life!"

Perhaps that statement should have stung. Instead, it made him snigger, which soon evolved into vibrant peals of laughter that erupted from his stomach like an active volcano. Dean just gawped at him as if he'd stripped nude and started talking Spanish.

"Th-That was  _funny_?" He asked after a while.

Castiel wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, allowing the last dribble of happiness to trickle down his chin until he felt empty again "Yes. I suppose it was."

"Oh… right."

Dean twiddled his thumbs, feeling like a douchebag, until Castiel continued the conversation.

"We can't expect this snow to settle down for at least a few hours," The older man shifted in his seat "And even then, we'll have to wait for it to melt by the door…"

Dean nodded his head vaguely, pretty sure that Cas was stating the obvious.

"So, we may have to make do with one another's company for quite a while."

They glanced at each other uncomfortably, worried that any hints of kindness or sincerity would chip away at their manly sheens and belittle their chances in the masculinity match they seemed to be a part of.

Castiel cleared his throat to interrupt the prolonged silence "May I use the bathroom?"

"Uh, yeah." Dean ran a hand over his face "It's just down the hall to your left."

"Thank you."

* * *

In the safety of the lavatory, Castiel scrambled for his phone; there were 3 new messages.

**Where the hell are you, Clarence?**

**Oh, shit… you're snowed in, aren't you?**

**Remember to use protection!**

He grimaced. Sometimes, he envied Meg's confidence and easy-going nature. Such characteristics would certainly make the next few hours more bearable.

The bathroom was small and square with your typical blue paint and while tiles. Other than the toilet and bog-standard magazine rack consisting of three paperbacks and 'Men's Weekly', the room was pretty much bare.

He double checked the lock on the door before replying to the messages.

_Yes, and by the looks of it, we'll be here a while… Stuck in the bathroom – reply now!_

He'd scarcely exhaled before the next message came through.

**Get your ass out of the bathroom and go for round 2!**

_Are you listening to me?! I may have had sex with a man. A MAN!_

**Can it, Clarence. Wait… does your butt hurt?**

He winced, almost dropping the phone before rubbing between his cheeks frantically. Surely he'd at least be  _sore_ after his first time.

_No. I think I'm safe there._

**So, at least you're a giver!**

_I'm going to pee, and then I'm going to break down the door. Wish me luck._

**Nah. I think this quality time will be good for you! Go get 'em, tiger.**

He didn't reply.

Even after relieving himself, the thought of having to go back into the living room and make small talk with Dean Winchester made him cringe. Instead, he took the opportunity to browse through the younger man's extensive library.

" _2-headed Spider vs Giant Anaconda…_ " He frowned at the eccentric title, though the grainy image of the monsters battling it out amongst the city was enough to put him off.

As he was wondering to himself how on earth an author could  _write_ the events of two grossly deformed creatures destroying the empire state building during their squabble, there was a light rap against the door.

"Uh… Cas? You OK in there?"

He jumped, flinging the novel across the room "Y-Yes! I'm just, uh… b-bad stomach!"

_Why did he say that?!_

"Oh." Dean muttered "Well, just call if you need me."

With a shaky sigh, he collapsed against the toilet seat and ran a hand through his hair; it was always especially dishevelled in the morning. Meg had once told him that it was cute, that it contradicted with his uptight personality (which was slightly offensive) and therefore gave him 'spark'. All through college, her bad influence had encouraged him to embrace the bed-head look. But now, as a  _mature_ adult, he'd settled on smoothing it down as best as he could with whatever products were available.

Castiel presumed that Dean was a fan of pop culture based on the other two books on the rack, meaning that that was yet  _another_ thing that they didn't have in common.

With a sigh, he flicked through the first few pages of 'Men's Weekly', only stopping when the words 'How to spot when he's gagging for it' stood out to him. The title was done in red block letters and stretched out over two pages, just asking for attention.

_"Of course 'Men's Weekly' is a_ gay  _magazine…"_ Is all Castiel could think as he skimmed through the article.

It talked about the signs desperate men gave out, the do's and don'ts of dating a cling-on and how to spot when desperation equalled desire. 'Men's Weekly' had proved to be yet another petty, self-righteous magazine catered towards one particular breed of man; ass-butts.

**_Is he serving himself on a platter? Is he just_ asking  _to be taken into your strong, welcome arms? Is his desperation_ your  _blessing?_**

How delightful… It was actually  _encouraging_ people to take advantage of others.

**_A desperate man may play hard-to-get on the surface, but if you beat him at his own game, he'll be putty in your hands. Does he:_ **

**_1\. Come to your beck and call?_ **

**_2\. Play the innocent man?_ **

**_3\. Talk-the-talk, but_ still  _melt into your arms?_**

Castiel tried to ignore the fact that he'd agreed to meet Dean just 10 minutes after finding him online as soon as he'd asked. Or how he'd insisted, even the day after, that one night stands  _weren't_ his thing and that he most definitely  _was_ straight. Or even how he'd promised himself, Meg  _and_ Dean that they were meeting strictly as friends, and then decided to sleep with the man anyway.

**_If your new man is recovering from a bad split, he may be radiating desperation! Single-newbies are like pretty presents just waiting to be torn open… Highly recommended for one-time flings._ **

He felt sick as the penny dropped; had Dean purposely sought out a  _desperate_ man to have his wicked way with? The article certainly seemed to have Castiel stamped down as being a fraught cling-on just looking for some fun.

_Was Dean_ his  _distraction from how messed up and pathetic his life really was?_

Without a moment's hesitation, he leapt up from the seat, tore the 2-page article out of the magazine and flung it into the bowl. Flushing a toilet had never been more satisfactory and as he watched the crumpled piece of paper disappear from sight, he swore to himself that he  _wouldn't_ be that man.

However, satisfaction  _soon_  dissolved to panic as water began rising from the toilet mercilessly, creating a glossy pool of clear liquid that seeped into the floor boards...


	3. What is this feeling?

"I-I don't, I tried to… I-"

"Don't worry about it!" Dean chuckled softly as they watched the water slowly flood the bathroom.

The younger man tiptoed cautiously through the relentless stream to inspect the bowl and shrugged his shoulders casually.

"Do you see anything?" Castiel breathed, still painfully embarrassed about how badly he'd reacted to a stupid article; if Dean realized how much of a paranoid freak he was, the day ahead would only become more awkward.

"Nah," He scratched the back of his head "Just… water, I guess."

_Phew._

"Will ya pass me a towel, Cas?"

He turned his shoulder in the direction Dean was nodding "Any… colour preference?"

"Well," The freckled man paused to think "This  _is_ a special occasion; it's not often a semi-straight guy invades my home and floods my toilet…"

Castiel blushed slightly, though he got the impression that the comment was meant as joke. That was surely a good sign, right?

"Screw it! Let's go wild and use the 'Finding Nemo' one!" Dean smirked playfully.

Even Castiel couldn't resist the urge to smile at that lopsided grin; it was almost contagious! He passed over the towel with a chuckle, avoiding any contact with the other man's fingers for the fear of causing more discomfort.

As he watched him mop up the floor with ease, Castiel couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt in his chest for the way he'd been treating Dean. He could imagine feeling quite betrayed if he took home a woman who later turned out to be gay, even if he  _was_  only looking for something casual (not that he'd  _ever_ purposely sought out that kind of relationship).

"Here," He rolled up his sleeves and crouched down beside the man with the forest-green eyes "Let me help. It's kind of my mess, anyway…"

Dean waved him off "Ah, stop beating yourself up. A little water never hurt anyone, right?"

"Well, theoretically, even a  _glass_ of water could drown you." Castiel pointed out with a nod.

"Cas," Dean gazed at him, a lazy smile hanging from his lips "You really are a weird little dude."

With no clue how to respond to that, he simply pressed the sodden towel against Dean's face and grinned "I'm not the one with toilet water on my face."

* * *

Castiel was goddam pleased with himself; that whole toilet scenario, despite being entirely shameful and accidental, had somehow brought about a cheery atmosphere and eliminated all previous awkwardness created that morning.

"You little bitch…" Dean chuckled for about the eighth time as he patted his skin dry with a teacloth.

The older man quirked his eyebrows "Well, you shouldn't have provoked me."

"Weirdness is a virtue; I wouldn't take it as an insult."

So, did that mean Dean was  _complimenting_ him? In a strange, masculine 'I won't admit it, but I'm actually starting to like you' kind of way?

He smiled "My family says I'm quite strange."

After shoving a towel down the toilet to cease the water flow, the couple had retreated to the living room for refreshments. Castiel learnt that Dean took his coffee black, 'like his men' (which was apparently a reference to something called 'Airplane') and was also partial to a builder's brew. Castiel, on the other hand, liked plenty of milk and sugar; he could probably blame Gabriel for that.

"Is this the family of two?" Dean wrapped his hands around the mug and smirked.

"Well, everyone I'm related to, actually."

He found himself becoming more and more distracted by the way the freckled man stopped to savour the smell of the coffee drifting from his cup; every now and again, a look of pure contentment would wash over his face, making his eyelids flutter as if he were intoxicated, and for a moment, he'd zone out completely.

"Strange like Dr. Seuss or strange like Hannibal Lecter?" He asked lazily after a while.

Castiel tilted his head, brow furrowed and eyes wide like a puppy.

It was cute, Dean had to admit; the way his steely blue orbs glistened with confusion. He became lost in the subtle curve of the man's jawline, the slight crease in his chin, the shadow of stubble he'd acquired overnight…

"Dean?"

"Oh, right! Sorry." He broke out of his trance with an awkward smile "It's just my, uh… my  _brother_ , he pulls that same trick on me."

If Castiel could tilt his head any further, he was afraid it would snap off.

"Puppy dog eyes!" Dean wiggled his fingers as if it were some kind of magic trick "He's well known for it, the little bitch…" He chuckled once more and took a long sip of coffee.

"I wasn't aware I was giving you 'puppy dog eyes'." Castiel shrugged.

At least his head was back in the right position now, so Dean could actually think straight.

He placed his mug on the table and turned to face Castiel with a frown "So, your folks think you're some kind of nut-job, right?"

Those blue eyes were captivating as he spoke; it's like they had the ability to reflect every single emotion the older man felt "They think I shut myself away too much. Like a hermit…"

Dean considered this for a moment; a social wreck surely wouldn't be scouring the internet for a cheap booty call. His shoulders slumped slightly as he let out a sigh.

"What is it?"

He licked his lips anxiously "I was a real bitch to you before… I-I don't think you're a 'slut-bag', or whatever it is you said…"

Castiel smiled softly, a pink tinge radiating his cheeks "And I don't believe you're an inarticulate ass-butt…."

"What?"

"Nothing."

They laughed for a moment, just soaking in the eccentricity of their situation.

"Bobby, he's like my surrogate dad, he says I need to get out more, too…" Castiel could see the ghost of a smile tracing the man's lips at the mention of this 'Bobby' guy "Same goes for my Sammy, as well. They both think I need to meet a nice man and settle down."

They met each other's gaze for a moment, eyes boring into one another. Castiel couldn't help but feel like there was some breed of pain nestled behind those green eyes that was just waiting to seep out, probably in floods of tears…

And then the kettle let out a banshee-like scream from the kitchen.

Dean jumped from his seat "Son of a bitch!"

All Castiel could do was chuckle as he watched the younger man traipse off to the kitchen, cursing under his breath as he went. There was something so endearing about those bowlegs that shuffled whilst Dean moved about hurriedly.

The older man swallowed thickly, his mind racing  _"I am not gay. I am not gay. I am not gay…"_

* * *

"Just be honest with me… This is important!"

Castiel had excused himself once again; without the availability of the toilet, it was fairly difficult to come up with an excuse, but he'd managed to convince Dean that he was feeling light headed and wanted to sit outside on the steps for a while.

There was a snigger on the other end of the phone " _Why_ are you asking me this again, Clarence?"

"I-I…" He felt flustered, unbelievably hot and bothered "Well, he sort of, kind of, maybe…"

"Sort of, kind of, maybe  _what_?" Meg hissed.

Oh, bring on the torture…  _"He turns me on, OK?!"_

And then it was just out there; the closest confession to having doubts about his sexuality was now floating around in the conversation, waiting to be plucked and torn to shreds by his roommate's cruel sense of humour.

But instead, there was just silence.

"Meg? Are you still there?"

She supressed the urge to squeal (a nasty habit she and Castiel had seemed to inherit from Gabriel's many visits) "Oh, this is pure  _gold_ , Clarence!"

Castiel focussed his energy on fixing his tie once more, only offering an indecipherable mumble in response to his friend's giddiness.

"And you're asking me how to _flirt_  with guys?" She was clearly enjoying this too much.

"Yes." He managed to answer through gritted teeth.

"Alright, OK… just leave it to me…"

"What are you going to do?" He whined, knowing too well that Meg's scheming  _never_ ended well.

"Relax, will ya? I'm just gonna play cupid!" There was that familiar mischievousness.

Castiel stifled a groan "And what exactly does that signify?"

"Remember – Dean likes Metallica, pie, his 'baby' and, get this,  _a man who can hold his drink!_ "

"Either your memory is extremely impressive or-"

She huffed "Ah, shut it, Clarence! I'm on his profile again."

"Please stop stalking the poor man…"

"Listen," Her voice was now more sincere, indicating that it was Castiel's time to zip it and actually hear what she had to say "Just talk about things you have in common."

He scoffed "Based off that list, there's  _nothing_ we have in common!"

"It's not always as black and white as liking the same band or eating the same food…" She exclaimed "Sometimes, it's more about the passion, the  _drive_ , the character!  _Why_ does Dean like classic rock,  _why_ does he love pie,  _why_ is that goddamn car so precious to him? You have to dig, Clarence! Things of value tend to be buried deep, alright?"

Castiel secretly loved the compassionate side to Meg, even if her thorny alter-ego was a real laugh at times "You know, there's a huge difference between being  _attracted_ to someone and actually starting a relationship with them. I-I'm not sure if I'm ready to just hop into bed with a man; this is all new to me!"

Now she  _was_ snickering "Hate to break it to you, but you've kind of already overstepped that mark…"

OK, so she was right. He  _had_ slept with Dean Winchester, that much was now pretty clear (even if he couldn't remember the details of their affair) and so he'd lost the luxury of taking things slow and approaching the whole bisexual thing carefully.

"I'm going to go back inside and maybe… talk to him? I don't know."

"Yes," He could hear the smile in her voice "You do that. Just give me a call if you need any more facts on Mr. Sexy!"

The line went dead before he had a chance to scold her childishness, leaving him oh-so-alone with just his thoughts to comfort him.

But considering he was now picturing a topless Dean emerging from the bed, muscles rippling as he outstretched his arms in a satisfying yawn, his thoughts were of little comfort.

* * *

Sports had never been Castiel's thing; in school, he'd slack off and hide behind the sheds with Meg. She'd smoke, he'd read, they'd make out for a bit… All was good. But now, with Dean looking so adorable with a pleading expression on his face, it was hard to say 'no' to a game of table tennis.

"I-I'm not familiar with this game." He warned the younger man.

Dean simply tossed the racket into mid-air, expecting Castiel to catch it effortlessly. Instead, it bounced against his chest and toppled to the floor.

He snorted "If you're half as bad as you are at catching, I've got this in the bag!"

Castiel was inclined to agree with him on that, but tried to mask his defeat with a smirk "Perhaps I'm hustling you?"

"For what exactly?" Dean dropped the little white ball onto the surface of the table, retrieving it with his one hand as it bounced back into the air "What do you want to play for, Cas?"

Those goddamn eyes were glistening again; they were taunting him with the fact that  _they_ knew all of Dean's dark secrets and what was really hiding behind that smug grin. Somehow, he couldn't see Dean offloading all of his troubles onto some stranger. It made him feel useless.

"Um…" Maybe he could use this to his advantage "A secret."

Dean cocked his head "A  _secret_?"

"Yes. Whoever loses a point has to answer a question.  _Truthfully_."

This made the freckled man chuckle "First off, you don't  _lose_ points, you  _gain_ them. Second off, why on earth would you want to know my secrets?"

In the time it had taken him to finish that sentence, Dean had somehow walked around the table to where Castiel was stood, without him even realizing. They were so close that their breath mingled in the air, hands twitching for the warmth of another.

"I-I…" His face was burning "I just thought it would be a fun activity…"

Dean glanced down at Castiel's lips, hunger flaming in his eyes; they were so plump and smooth, he wanted nothing more than to drag his teeth over them, make Cas squirm.

"A little, intimate… don't you think?" He breathed, taking a step closer.

Something flashed in those blue orbs – longing, perhaps? Castiel had sworn he wasn't gay and Dean had believed him; no one was capable of faking such emotion. But, surely that was lust written across his face? Dean had seen it plenty of times before, on both women and men, and yet Castiel was so difficult to decipher. In a way, it was quite enticing.

Just as he felt like leaning in to close the gap, some part of him saw sense and drew back. He chewed the inside of his cheek and clapped his hands lightly "Great! Like a truth or dare of table tennis… minus the dare."

Castiel exhaled a shaky breath "Y-Yes, exactly."

"Well, I'm game!"

The older man tilted his head slightly, still confused by Dean's use of language now and again. He straightened his neck with a weak smile and positioned his hands around the racket with a tight grip, knees bent in an awkward squat.

Dean chuckled at the way Castiel held the handle with both hands, as if he were afraid of it flying off, but decided against making a snide remark; the look of determination on the little guy's face with his fingers wrapped around the racket was quite adorable.

He cleared his throat "My serve?"

Without waiting for a reply (because he was pretty sure Castiel didn't know what he meant), Dean gently tossed the ball a couple of inches in the air and tapped it softly with his racket. It landed just on the edge of the table, forcing Castiel to lunge backwards and bend his arm at an awkward angle in order to receive the ball in time. Much to Dean's surprise, he hit in with just the right amount of force, sending it directly his way without too much of a kafuffle.

"Ah, you  _did_  hustle me, didn't ya?" He grinned.

Castiel's eyes were wide with fear, but fixed firmly on the path of the ball with an unwavering sense of determination "I-I'm just  _doing_ it!" His voice wobbled as he tried to focus on the game.

And then somehow, without him even realizing, the ball had bounced off Dean's side of the table and Castiel was smiling like an idiot.

"Point to me!" He cheered "You lose!"

Dean rubbed his forehead with a smirk "We've got to get to  _eleven_ , you dunce."

His expression faltered slightly, but he was still beaming "At least I get to ask you a question."

Of course, Dean knew this was coming. He'd agreed to it after all… But there was something about the inquisitive look on Castiel's face that made him feel exposed, somehow. What if he asked a question Dean  _really_ didn't want to answer, like 'how's your relationship with your parents?' or 'have you ever been in love?'? He kinda liked this dude and he  _didn't_ want to scare him off with his messed-up life and crazy issues.

"What's your favourite flavour of pie?"

Dean gasped slightly, admittedly taken aback by the simplicity of the question. The look of pure innocence on Castiel's face made him melt inside; he so badly wanted to throw his arms around the older man and never let go.

"Uh… " He swallowed thickly "Apple. No, no… pecan. No! I don't know."

Castiel chuckled at how difficult a question it proved to be; Dean  _really_ did love pie, perhaps choosing favourites was like favouritism amongst children in his eyes.

The game continued, with Dean excusing the times Castiel's hands touched the table or he let the ball bounce more than once before hitting it, simply because the childlike wonder that glinted in his eyes every time he 'did good' was quite irresistible. Dean even found himself  _enjoying_ Castiel's questions, as none of them had been personal so far.

When they were up to a score of 10 each, Dean explained that the winner would now have to score an extra two points. He didn't know what that meant exactly, but Castiel was more than happy to wring two more secrets from his opponent ( _if_  you call them secrets considering he'd been extra careful not to invade Dean's privacy).

Something must have snapped inside Castiel as he bagged the next two points in record time, much like a professional player Dean had to admit.

"W-Woah…"

"Yes," Castiel blushed "I wanted to ask you two more questions."

Dean scoffed "Clearly!"

He didn't pressure Castiel; there was an air of reluctance about him that suggested that he was building up to it. This of course could only mean one thing: it was going to be a corker of a question, a double-whammy at that!

* * *

Castiel would be lying if he said that he wasn't impressed with Dean's little arrangement in the back room; they'd switched off all the lights and closed the curtains (even though the darkness of the winter's day allowed little light inside) and were now huddled together in a paper-thin tent propped up with the most random of objects. In the pitch black, only subtle hints of movement could be detected until an array of tiny bulbs looped around the tent came alive, basking the room in a milky-white glow. The light was soft and warm, only illuminating specific areas of the room and leaving the rest in darkness.

Dean smiled gently "Awesome, right?"

It took a moment for the older man to respond; he was captivated by the fuzzy halos of warmth surrounding each individual bulb, the way Dean had carefully arranged pillows and blankets behind them so that they could lay back whenever they pleased, the butterflies swarming in his stomach…

"It's perfect." He breathed.

The feeling of those green eyes gliding over him was strong, but he refused to meet Dean's gaze. He tried to remember Hannah and how her black hair bounced at the ends, bunched up around her shoulders, or the way she laughed in a confident, sophisticated manner. By now, he'd usually be squeezing his eyes shut until the tears receded, but instead he just felt nothing. There was no desperate longing for his ex by his side and no urge to punch his brother, Balthazar into next week. All he wanted to do was sit here, preferably with Dean's shoulder brushing against his own, and never let this feeling of pure contentment leave him.

"Snacks…" He mumbled, struggling to resist the temptation of sleep, despite it still being early.

Dean winked playfully "Not to fear, my good man!"

With one swift motion, he'd pulled the tail of a rug peeking through the entrance of the tent until it was dragged inside, bringing a plate of Twizzlers, pork rinds and salted nachos along with it.

Castiel grinned "Ah, what  _excellent_ service."

They chewed and crunched until their jaws were tender, flinging various bits of food at one another and giggling like school kids. It felt so normal, the two of them together. It felt so  _right_.

Castiel watched his new companion carefully, monitoring each and every movement with curiosity as if he were some incredible new species yet to be discovered by anyone else. In a way, he wished that that was the case; he wanted Dean to himself. He wanted to be free to let his eyes roam the other man's body without permission.

"You're staring."

He was thankful for the low light as he felt a fierce blush crawling up his neck "I-I want to ask my questions now."

Dean yanked his head back, splitting a Twizzler in half with his teeth "Shoot."

Now was the moment Castiel would take their relationship a step forward; he was in  _no_ way ready to commit to being a bisexual, but there was still this feeling gnawing away at him. He needed answers, he needed to know that he wasn't the only one feeling this way.

"First question," He began slowly "Did you invite me over for sex?"

There was no spluttering or choking, no wide eyes or furrowed brow. Dean just swallowed back his Twizzler and turned to face the older man nonchalantly "Yeah, I did."

Castiel felt a small twang in his chest, like this whole thing had just been a cheap and meaningless fling. But there was no way he could be angry with Dean because, at the end of the day, that's what Meg had signed him up for in the first place.

He dipped his head "Second question…"

Dean shuffled closer, his hand just inches away from Castiel's.

"Did you… uh, you know…" He cleared his throat "Did you  _like_ it?"

Now Dean seemed taken aback; all memories of last night were fuzzy, but there were definitely things he distinctly remembered. Castiel had been flustered and so they'd rushed into the important stuff without the luxury of foreplay. The main event had lasted too long, probably because Cas had been stiff and awkward the entire time and clearly didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do with another man. It was a miracle Dean hadn't realized how clueless the poor guy was in that department whilst they were doing it. What had been the cherry on top of a rather disappointing encounter was the fact that there had been  _no_ cuddling afterwards, something Dean was rather partial to (though he'd never admit it).

He opened his mouth to voice that exact opinion, only to be stopped dead by the wide-eyed look of hope and curiosity Castiel appeared to be sporting. Perhaps, despite the fact that he was as straight as a ruler, there was a part of him that wanted to cherish his time with Dean. The younger man had grown rather fond of this new friend of his, he would even go as far as saying that he rather  _liked_ him… Even if they were set to part ways once the blizzard had ceased, he was more than happy to deceive Castiel if it meant he'd remember their time together with affection.

"It was great." He grinned, popping a handful of pork rinds into his mouth.

A brief smile tugged at the corners of Castiel's lips "I wish I could remember it properly!" He blushed.

Dean stopped mid-crunch and placed a hand hesitantly on the older man's leg "Really?"

Castiel's mind went into full meltdown.

 _"Why is his hand on my leg? Is he flirting with me? Oh my god… does he_ want  _me?!"_

Ever since he'd slapped a wet towel against Dean's face, there'd been a swarm of unexplainable feelings raging inside of him. He'd only ever wanted to kiss women, to run his hands through long locks, to joke and tease until his efforts were rewarded with giggles. So why did he  _now_ have the urge to press his lips against Dean's? To curl his fingers in the freckled man's short, golden-brown hair? To be the one to make him throw his head back with a playful yet confident chuckle?

"Dean-"

A low, long creak moaned from out of nowhere, making the couple spring apart with a yelp.

"What was that?!"

Dean curled his lips into a snarl, like he just  _didn't_ have time for this right now "It's the goddamn toilet… It's gonna blow."


	4. Breaking and entering

From a bystander's point of view, they must have looked pretty ridiculous; they were two grown men hiding behind the sofa, watching the trembling toilet seat from a distance in shocked silence. Dean had gone so far as to strap a cushion around his head for 'protection' as he put it, though Castiel was pretty confident it was just for show (or so he hoped).

"You're using a cushion as a helmet?" He asked casually, trying to fight back the smirk rapidly growing on his face.

Dean shrugged one shoulder, eyes still fixated on the bathroom "You can never be too careful, Cas."

The older man chuckled lightly and nodded towards the toilet "Perhaps we should do something. I have the feeling  _staring_ at it all day won't fix our problem."

"Well," Dean grimaced "I let my buddy next door borrow my plunger… and I don't quite fancy shoving my hand down the thing to fish out your faeces."

Castiel blushed "I-I didn't…  _poop_!"

Laughter suddenly filled the room, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his ears "Did… did you just say  _poop_?!"

Now he felt like even  _more_ of an idiot "Y-Yes? Is there a problem with choosing a more  _appropriate_ word to describe, well… you know…"

Dean fixed him with a perplexed stare "Crap, shit, dump, turd-"

"Yes,  _that_."

His green eyes shimmered with amusement "Oh, Cas… You're such a prude you even have to resort to juvenility when discussing taking a crap!"

Castiel pouted slightly "Ass-butt."

Dean grinned at the childish insult; it hardly grazed him (in fact, it bounced right off him) but something about the older man's hunched shoulders and steely glare suggested that it was a word used only when he was particularly frustrated. It felt nice to be included in something that felt so, well…  _Cas_.

"Yeah, but you're right. We need to settle this baby down."

"How?"

There was only one solution, of course: they had to retrieve the plunger.

"But, I thought your friend had it?" Castiel tilted his head slightly "Can we get to his apartment without using the door?"

Dean shook his head "Nah, his building's disconnected from this one…"

"So…"

A mischievous grin crept up on the younger man's face. There  _was_ a way they could reach the other building without leaving through the main door; if they took the steps up to the roof (which was technically off-limits, but what the hell!) and shimmied down the drainpipes, they could probably reach the fire escape and climb up to the window. The goddamn plunger was  _so_ not worth the ridiculous plan, but picturing a frantic Castiel trying to shimmy down a pipe made him laugh so hard.

" _What?!_ " His blue eyes flashed incredulously "You must be insane!"

Dean tried on his most convincing frown "Why? I do this all the time…"

"Liar!"

"Hey, that  _hurts_ me!" He shoved the other man's shoulder playfully "The reality of the situation is: that toilet is oh-so close to flooding the entire bathroom and sooner or later, one of us is gonna have to  _go_ … We need the plunger!"

Castiel crossed his arms defensively "Why don't  _you_  go?"

"Like you said, it's  _your_ mess."

He'd gotten him there. If there was one thing he could safely conclude after spending time with Castiel, it was that the man hated being the cause of something chaotic or upsetting; he'd chosen to stay for breakfast after Dean had accused him of running out (little did he know that he had no choice in the matter), he'd apologised relentlessly for causing the younger man pain after their little 'dispute' and  _now_ he was getting all flustered because he knew, deep down, that the whole toilet scenario was of his doing. It was a cruel trick to play, but Dean knew it was the only way to get him on side.

Castiel fidgeted before responding hesitantly " _Fine."_

"You're on board?" He raised his eyebrows dubiously.

"Yes. But I refuse to wear anything ridiculous!"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Castiel emerged from the bedroom wearing what appeared to be 50-odd layers of clothing, a bobble hat that practically drowned his head and a pair of steel toed boots. Despite the paranoid winter get-up, he still sported the twisted blue tie he'd worn around his neck the first time he'd shown up at the apartment.

Dean's mouth gaped open slightly "How the… Do you  _really_ think that outfit is gonna make things  _easier_ for you?"

"It's cold."

Castiel tilted his head, obviously confused as to why his companion seemed so concerned with his choice of clothing. He glanced down at himself, fixing his tie and tapping the heels of his boots against the floor; what was wrong with it?

"Yeah, Cas." Dean massaged his temples with an impatient huff, as if he'd lost the will to live "But please tell me  _how_ you're going to climb down a drainpipe when you can hardly move your sorry ass?!"

This got his attention; Castiel frowned slightly, offering Dean a weary smile before shrugging off a jacket, an extra pair of trousers, two jumpers and the scarf wrapped firmly around his throat. He was left in joggers, a thick blue cardigan that covered the white shirt he'd worn the night before and a pair of cotton gloves. Of course, Dean had no objections to the boots, though he was still quite sceptical about the tie.

"Better?"

The freckled man shoved a thumbs-up inches away from his face and grinned "Awesome."

Dean's outfit was much less appropriate, Castiel observed; he'd went for a neon-pink ski outfit, a black coat that puffed out his chest, a pair of pinstripe boxers and some worn out trainers.

"You ready for this, Cas?" He chuckled lightly, knowing the answer all too well.

"No." Castiel shook his head curtly, but motioned for Dean to lead the way nonetheless.

He followed him out the front of door cautiously, still very much concerned with how this plan was going to play out. Dean had seemed certain that climbing about on a slippery rooftop (with the sun slowly beginning to weaken throughout the evening) and practicing a Spiderman manoeuvre over onto the other building was going to be easy. To say that Castiel was doubtful would be a major understatement.

Dean's eyes shifted between the staircase and Castiel, who was now trembling despite the suffocating warmth of his new outfit "Alright, we need to go up."

"Really?" His tone was one of mock disbelief "To get to the roof we have to go  _up_ the stairs?"

_What a bitch…_

"Yeah, smart-ass." Dean supressed a smirk "Now, if you're done with being a douchebag, remember to mind your step. I'd hate for you to fall and break your neck…" He said the last part lightly, as if it such a thing would be a blessing.

Castiel grinned, which made Dean's heart flutter briefly; the older man wore it so well, it made him wonder why he didn't smile more often. He'd give anything to make him laugh, to be the only person capable of wringing such emotion from his uptight demeanour. It ached him to think about how, in less than 24 hours, this gorgeous man who'd stumbled into his life and made his heart soar would most likely be with his ex, begging her to take him back. The look on his poor face that morning, when he'd realized how stupid he'd been (because Dean was just a silly mistake, after all) had been a combination of fear, regret and, dare he even admit it, disgust… The mere thought of sleeping with another man had made Castiel feel dirty inside, so how was Dean supposed to tell him how he felt? How was he supposed to express how every time he furrowed his brow or tilted his head, Dean felt like he could melt there and then? How the hell was he expected to profess his affections for this  _stranger_? He'd know Castiel all of 5 minutes and yet these feelings boring their way deep inside of him were frightening; they were like nothing he'd ever felt before. Maybe, that was his body's reaction to something far deeper than  _lust._ Maybe, what he was feeling was stronger than a simple attraction. Maybe, just maybe, it was-

"Dean?!"

Castiel's eyes were wide with concern as he flailed he hand about in Dean's face. He must have blanked out…

"Yeah, yeah!" He chuckled weakly, shoving the older man back a few paces "I'm fine. Cool it, would ya?"

"Oh," Castiel cleared his throat "Does that happen often?"

The last thing he wanted was his newfound  _crush_ (yeah, he'd admit that he was acting like a teenage girl hopped up on 'Twilight' mojo) suspecting that he was all kinds of crazy.

He shrugged one shoulder "Only when I'm thinking real hard. It's no biggy!"

Before Castiel had time to object or call out Dean's blatant lies, he was being dragged up the stairs by a warm hand. Even through the thickness of his gloves, he could feel fingers digging into his flesh; it wasn't a painful grip, but it was desperate, like Dean was trying to hold on with all his might.

The air was colder than he could have imagined, slapping him forcefully in greeting as he clambered up the last few steps and towards the now-open door Dean had just kicked in. He wondered how much snow had been piled against their only means of escape and how much weight the younger man must have had to unleash on the door to even make it budge. Something itching in the back of his mind told him that Dean must have had a lot of experience with kicking doors in.

"Impressive," He noted casually, accepting the gloved hand reached out to him from above "Now, if only you could do that to the main door."

He'd only meant it as a joke, of course, but something brimmed behind those green eyes that made him shudder; it was sad and tired, giving Dean a forlorn expression that didn't mesh well with his usually bright face.

Dean scoffed "Yeah, then you could get of here for good and this whole mess would be over." His words sounded far more bitter than he'd intended, but Castiel chose not to acknowledge it.

From the roof, he could overlook the entire city. Dean's apartment was just on the outskirts, actually, but the blazing lights and moving traffic was just as visible from up there as it was from his and Meg's windows. Darkness had slowly engulfed them, diluting the sky to an inky blue as the sun melted away beyond the horizon, leaving nothing but the streaky remnants of light in its wake. He inhaled a sharp intake of breath and slumped against the low wall surrounding the border of the building.

Dean gasped "Woah, dude! Get away from the edge!"

It was a silly request; Castiel was a grown man who knew better than to play around on rooftops. But there was something so touching about the urgency in Dean's voice that he pulled back instantly with an apologetic smile.

The other building was spaced out by no more than a couple of metres, but the height made him feel nauseated. Suppose he slipped on the pipes? Suppose he hit the ground with enough force to break his leg?  _Both_ legs? Suppose he cut his head open like a can of tomatoes and bled to death on the pavement?

"I don't think I can do this." The statement was wobbly and hushed.

Dean slung an arm around Castiel's shoulders confidently, ignoring the fierce blush that painted the older man's face "It's as easy as 1, 2, 3…"

Castiel smiled appreciatively "As simple as do, re, mi?"

"Bitch."

"Ass-butt."

Dean grinned; it was that fleck of Cas' personality shining through once again. He loved it.

"I'll go first-"

"That was never out of the question!" Castiel squeaked, receiving a jolt of laughter from his partner in crime.

"OK, OK… I was just  _reminding_ you."

With that, he'd draped his legs over the roof edge facing the opposite building, his feet almost brushing the pipes below. It was simple task, in the grand scheme of things; the pipes ran down the bricks in two separate channels with numerous juts in the wall to support his footing. Just like climbing down a ladder, he assured himself.

Dean glanced over his shoulder and grinned at the nervous wreck that was Castiel trembling before him "If I don't make it, just know that you rocked my world, baby."

Castiel's face flushed scarlet beneath his upturned collar "Oh, shut up, Dean…"

And with a wink, he was gone.

It was several minutes before Castiel heard Dean's voice again. All was silent and then, without warning, he heard boots colliding with metal, a suppressed groan and finally, those precious words "I'm OK!"

He hadn't realised he long he'd been holding his breath until the air escaped from his lips in a wheezy sigh "Did you really have to take so long?!" He called back.

"You kiddin' me?" Dean cried "I just defied  _gravity_!"

Castiel chewed the inside of cheek, not sure if Dean was making another pun he couldn't understand "You do realize that it's physically impossible to defy gravity?"

"Yeah, yeah… Mr. Literal."

He knew it was now  _his_ turn to challenge fate and dangle himself off a building, all for the sake of a plunger, but his feet seemed to be glued to the spot. Dean was calling his name; it seemed distant and muffled, but it was definitely his voice. The wind whipped past him cruelly and almost knocked him out of place, though his stance was adamant. He wasn't moving anytime soon, he thought.

* * *

 _The air was cool. Not bitter cold like the rooftop, but breezy and refreshing against his reddened skin. A beach of flawless, white sand extended before him; he could feel the tiny grains between his toes, itching slightly, but comforting all the same. There was another man beside him. No… it wasn't a_ man _, it was a boy. His hair was brown and flicked around his ears, eyes golden like honey as his face crinkled into a toothy grin._

_"Hey, Cassie!" The boy was calling his name; they knew each other "Catch it!"_

_He looked down at his hands. They were softer and paler than usual, like they hadn't yet been worn down by years of labour and browned by the sun. Come to think of it, he was shorter, too. It could easily have been the sand swallowing his feet, but somehow he knew it wasn't that simple; he felt different, lighter. The pain of losing Hannah, his confusion about Dean – none of it was on his shoulders anymore. He felt free._

_Something red soared past his vision. It peeled through the sky as if in slow motion, not quick like a rock or tennis ball. It was soft and steady as it hummed by his ear. A Frisbee._

_"Aw, Cassie!" The boy scrunched his face and wrapped his arms around his chest "You missed it!"_

_That boy was Gabriel, it seemed so obvious to him now. It wasn't Gabriel as he knew him today, but a younger version; he looked about 12, maybe younger._

_Another hand grasped his shoulder, spinning him around with sudden, unexpected force "Yeah, Cassie. You missed it."_

_Only his brothers called him Cassie, it had been that way since he was little. He much preferred Dean's nickname. Cas felt pleasant, friendly… Cassie felt patronising, a constant reminder that he was the baby of the family._

_"Well, aren't you going to go get it?"_

_This boy was around Gabriel's age; he knew this to be a fact, though he wasn't quite sure how. He wore a V-neck shirt, pale grey, with faded purple shorts that reached his knees. His feet were bare, but Castiel noticed that he was sporting a loose, black band around his ankle with a tiny charm he couldn't quite see. A pair of tinted sunglasses were tucked into his collar, giving him an air of defiance. Something in the back of his mind told him that this boy was no more than a couple of years older than Gabriel, but his face told another story; his blonde hair was impeccably ruffled and teased to give him that 'boy-band' appearance and tiny, yet noticeable hairs of the same colour had begun to accumulate about his face. What was more unnerving was his grey-blue eyes, far more piercing that his own. This boy was Balthazar._

_"Um…" He couldn't find his voice._

_Balthazar scoffed "Cat got your tongue, Cassie?"_

_He remembered this day; he and his parents, along with Gabriel and Anna (their younger sister) of course, had come to visit their eldest sibling for a couple of weeks. Their dad had insisted that his first son be shipped off to boarding school at a young age to, as he put it, 'grow up to be a greater man'. Balthazar had left them at just 8 years old and here he was, probably 14, bossing Castiel around as if he'd never left._

_"I don't want to get it." He stood his ground._

_His brother scowled menacingly "Go get it now, Cassie. I won't ask twice."_

_Something about his cold tone of voice was so commanding; or was it just the fact that Castiel could hear the threat lingering in his words? Either way, he found himself scurrying off in search of the flyaway Frisbee he'd apparently failed to catch._

_It was an English beach, beautiful and tranquil despite the blazing sun. There were sunbeds laid all over the sand and children darting between silent parents, but it was nothing compared to the crowds they got in America. The sea wasn't a brilliant blue; it was more pale and grey than the ones back home, but Castiel felt like it fit perfectly amongst its surroundings. Lined up along the front of the beach were numerous stands, a small fairground and a shop selling dinghies and other holiday pastimes; for a moment, he considered popping in and buying a brand new Frisbee to save him time, but then he remembered that he was wearing swimming trunks and didn't have any money on him._

_And then he spotted it, just a flicker of red amongst the rocks, but it was there. Castiel couldn't believe it as he stumbled over the sand towards his target, closer and closer, his legs burning with exertion… He skidded to a halt as the ground dipped. Somehow, he was standing by a cliff edge, his hands clutching the Frisbee to his bare chest. Voices were calling below, frantic and pleading._

_"Castiel!" His mother "Oh my goodness! Castiel! Get down from there!"_

_He dared to peer over the edge to see what all the fuss was about. The people on the beach seemed miniscule from up there, like tiny ants flailing their arms about. It made him giggle._

_The Frisbee suddenly slipped out of his grasp and down, down, down… scarcely catching the wind on its descent. He pulled his arms out like in that movie, what was it called? The one with the boat and all that kissing? He cringed; kissing was gross._

_Wind surged past him, rustling his hair and screaming down his ear. His head was aching from all the shouting and he wanted to get down. He wanted his mum and dad, he wanted Gabriel and Anna, he even wanted Balthazar! But it was too late because he was already falling, just like the Frisbee. Only he didn't get caught in the wind, he just kept going, picking up speed as he went._

_"Oh, god!"_

_He was going to die if he kept falling._

_"My baby!"_

_The ground was coming closer; he could almost taste the sand._

_"Castiel!"_

_Invisible hands pulling him down._

_"Cassie!"_

_Blood boiling in his ears, chest tight, eyes closed…_

* * *

"Cas?!"

He blinked back tears, though he wasn't quite sure where they'd came from. All he could see was a pair of green eyes, shimmering in the slowly ascending moonlight.

"Geez, buddy… a-are you OK?"

Dean was there, his rough hands brushing against Castiel's, and he felt safe.

"I… I think so? I'm not quite sure what happened."

The freckled man pulled back slightly, but his face was still crinkled with concern "You kinda just zoned out there for a moment. You, uh… you had me worried."

_Why was he blushing like that?_

Castiel bowed his head "Sorry, Dean."

"No, no… don't apologise, you idiot!" He chuckled "Let's get you back inside…"

"The plunger?"

Dean waved him off "Who cares?"

"I care," Castiel loosened the man's grip as he pulled away gently "Your bathroom is flooded and we need a plunger. I'm fine, I promise."

There was a tense moment of silence and Castiel was sure he was being rejected until it was broken.

Dean offered a weak smile "Uh, yeah… OK." He rubbed the back of his neck "You need any help getting down? It's kinda slippery."

Castiel rolled his eyes "I'm highly capable."

"Alright, alright!"

OK, so maybe he wasn't  _highly_ capable, but he managed to scramble his way onto the fire escape without dying. He saw that as a positive.

They'd already climbed down a couple of floors, but the stairs seemed to go on and on forever… It wasn't until he was staring down the never-ending flight of steps that he realized how high up they'd been. He felt his stomach lurch.

"Which floor?"

Dean counted silently with his fingers, mouthing the numbers and furrowing his brow for a solid 3 minutes until he responded "Er, should be the one below… I think."

It wasn't a very reassuring answer, but with the snowfall increasing around them, Castiel wouldn't care if they chose the wrong room at this point. He frowned at Dean's back as he thought about the many layers he'd chosen to wear before he was practically stripped down; he  _could_ have been warm.

The metal was icy beneath their feet and if not for the sturdy grip of their boots, Castiel was certain they'd have fallen several times. Luckily, Dean seemed relieved when he peered into the window and saw a child's bedroom; blue walls decorated with yellow polka dot dinosaurs and red fire trucks.

He chuckled "Their son, Jesse. Hell of a kid…"

The way he trailed off, the hint of laughter dissolving with a sad little smile, suggested that there was something more to it than that. Castiel wished he'd recoil from the bundle of secrets Dean seemed to acquire, but instead, he was drawn in; there were so many hidden doors waiting to be opened inside the man's head. He wanted more than anything to have free-roam and explore the fascinating mind that was Dean Winchester, but he knew that sooner or later, all opportunities to do so would cease to exist.

"How do we get inside?"

Dean shrugged "Knock, I suppose?"

He rapped his knuckles on the glass lightly, careful not to wake Jesse in case he was in bed. The room remained dark, not even the hallway burst into colour at the sound of them knocking.

And then Dean seemed to double over in pain, groaning and cursing under his breath  _"Shit, shit, shit!"_

"What is it?" Castiel touched his shoulder hesitantly, worried that he might set him off.

Dean brought a hand over his face and sighed deeply "I just remembered… they're gone for the holidays. They're on some stupid skiing trip or something!"

He seemed angry and frustrated. Perhaps he blamed himself for dragging them up to the roof and down the drainpipes for no reason. Maybe he was even concerned for Castiel and his little 'episode' earlier on.

"It's OK, Dean. Maybe we should just-"

_Smash._

"What are you doing?!"

Dean had pulled his hand back into his sleeve and broken the glass with one, clean shot. Tiny shards were cast in every direction, littering the fire escape and ground below, most likely. He glanced over his shoulder and offered Castiel a weary grin.

"Well, that's one way to do it, hey?"

The older man just glared back, completely and utterly shocked by how cool Dean was about all this. He seemed so familiar with kicking down doors and breaking windows; what was he hiding behind that smirk?

They slipped inside reluctantly, trying their best to avoid the glass, though finding it near-impossible considering it was all around them. Poor Jesse's room was now a serious hazard, which only sparked his anger.

"What the hell do you think you were doing?" Castiel practically growled.

Dean shrunk back, though only slightly "Getting my goddamn plunger back!"

"We've just broken into this apartment!"

"Me and the Turners are on a friends basis, Cas. Don't worry about it…"

He saw red "Don't worry about it?  _Seriously,_ Dean? All I can do is  _worry_ about it! I mean, what is wrong with you? Why are you acting so cagey? This isn't like you-"

"You don't even know me, Cas!" Dean was up in his face, eyes wild and nostrils flared "You come into my home,  _fuck me,_  forget about it, treat me like hell, break my toilet and now you're telling me how to act? Like you honestly  _know_ me! Ha, it's pathetic…"

"Oh, really? I thought it was fairly obvious that a 24 year old man shouldn't being acting like such a spoilt brat! You don't need to know a person that well to realize when they're being a child!" He spat the words out, trying his best to get the right reaction from Dean. He wanted to see the hurt in his eyes, he wanted him to know that he was in the wrong.

Instead, the younger man scoffed and shoved past him, disappearing down the hallway and returning with what Castiel presumed was his plunger; the room was dark and Dean was in and out too quickly for him to notice.

Castiel slumped against Jesse's bed with a sigh. There was glass and slowly melting snow covering the floor, the entire window frame had snapped in half. He acknowledged that with the briefest hint of awe, but his thoughts were mainly clouded with anger and confusion. Something was bothering Dean and as much as hated him at that moment, he couldn't bear to see the other man in pain, no matter how deserving of it he was.

He heaved himself off the bed and tried his best to gather most of the glass into a neat pile out of the way. As he worked, he loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves to ease the fluency of his movements, bending and reaching as much as his back would allow.

Once he'd finished the job as well as he could manage, he leaned against the splintered wood of the window frame and chewed his lip anxiously; he'd have to make it back to the roof by himself considering Dean had abandoned him. The memories of that day, the incident he'd thought was long forgot, were still plaguing his mind as he hopped onto the fire escape and pulled his collar close around his face. In the heat of the moment, he'd forgotten about the navy blue tie he'd left on the desk in Jesse's room. The tie with his name, 'Castiel Novak', stitched into the label…


	5. Hot chocolate

Castiel knew that he should be furious with Dean; his childish behaviour,  _breaking a window_ , it was all too far. But when he stumbled back into the apartment, blue cardigan soaked through with fresh snow fall, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy.

Dean was laid out on the sofa, coat and boots discarded on the floor, leaving his hot pink suit exposed for the world to see. His expression was difficult to decipher, but Castiel would best describe it as being completely and utterly 'blank'.

"Hey, Cas…" He mumbled "I'm such a bitch."

The older man slumped against the front door, slowly closing it shut with his shoulder blades, and sighed heavily "Yes, I suppose that's an adequate analysis."

Dean brought a hand over his face and chuckled wearily "Ah… I really like you, you know that?"

It was just a simple statement, probably spurred on by guilt and whatever other nasty emotions swarmed inside the Winchester's mind, but Castiel couldn't help but take it as a genuine compliment "Thank you, Dean." He sat on the edge of the sofa and peeled his wet gloves off "I like you very much, as well."

He felt his face heat up at the slight bulge Dean's outfit appeared to encourage and forced his gaze towards the kitchen "Can I, uh… can I get you something to eat?"

Dean dropped his hand, revealing bright eyes and red skin; he looked like he was trying not to cry "You don't have to do that, Cas."

He was in the kitchen before Dean had time to protest further, as per the Castiel way. After growing up as the middle child (because he tended to exclude Balthazar from his childhood memories), he'd caught on that reading in between the lines was sometimes necessary. Whenever Gabriel was feeling neglected and felt like playing the 'no one pays me any attention' card, he'd resort to the silent game in which the only words he'd care to muster would be vague and brooding. Anna soon caught on, though she'd spice things up a little with a signature pout and crocodile tears. Stuck whack-bam in the middle of things, Castiel never got the opportunity to moan about  _his_ situation, but he  _did_  learn how to translate that awful, ambiguous language that often meant that there really  _was_  something the matter, it was just too difficult to explain. Perhaps Dean had grown up using the same trick, maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was also an older brother, but either way, he seemed to be using that very same technique to shut himself in.

"Hot chocolate seems like an obvious choice," Castiel smiled at his patient from the kitchen "Don't suppose you have any chocolate lying around, do you?"

Dean fiddled with the fraying material of the sofa and responded vaguely "Middle cupboard behind you, if I do."

The older man practically beamed with delight when he managed to unearth a half-eaten bar of unbranded chocolate hidden behind a mass of marshmallow fluff, fizzy laces and penny chews.

"My brother would never leave your side if he saw this cupboard." Castiel chuckled to himself.

Dean sighed a little, though it  _almost_ sounded like a breathy laugh "Blame Sammy. That boy comes in here and raids my fridge, then dumps his crap before taking off. Something about mum not wanting his teeth to fall out before he hits 30…"

"How old is your brother, anyway?" He was genuinely interested.

"20, though don't go telling people that!"

Castiel glanced over his shoulder with a frown "Why not?"

The conversation appeared to have lifted a weight off of Dean's shoulders; he seemed more than content when talking about his younger sibling "Sam, he's…. he's a giant, basically. The guy can  _easily_ pass as 21. A friend of my dad's used to be in the business of fake IDs and when he saw how much Sammy had grown up, he couldn't resist making him one. The little bitch has been getting into clubs since he was 18."

Castiel thought it best not to mention how he'd been stopped by the entrance of a club last night; he was seven years older than the younger Winchester and yet  _he_ was the one being told he wasn't allowed in without ID. Come to think of it, Gabriel had gone chasing after quite the 'giant' himself before Castiel had left, a man who resembled Dean somewhat… But he decided not to mention that part, either.

The art of melting the chocolate into the milk and stirring to achieve a satiny texture was one he'd learnt from his mother; he and Gabriel had spent the majority of their childhood in the family diner, watching intently as she whipped up numerous desserts for eager customers. A tablespoon of cream, a pinch of salt, plenty of Reddi-wip and a handful of chocolate chips usually did the trick.

"There," He placed a mugs-worth of rich, hot chocolate onto the coffee table and smiled gently "Order's up."

Dean shifted cautiously, careful not to knock the drink over; his hands were still pretty numb from their little adventure outside. Speaking of which, they still had a toilet to attend to…

"Shit," Dean took one, hearty sip and practically moaned "That's good."

Castiel tried to hold back his blush; the sexual noises escaping those perfectly plump lips were quite a tease. He was still trying to accept the fact that he was morbidly attracted to the man; the last thing he wanted was to jump on him out of pure, carnal frustration.

The younger man wore his chocolate moustache proudly, mainly because it made Castiel smile again. Jesse's room might have been vandalized and Dean may or may not have been hiding something from his companion, but at least they could both laugh at a  _chocolate moustache._

* * *

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Castiel frowned as he watched Dean make an attempt at unplugging the toilet.

The younger man scoffed "I know how to work a plunger, Cas…"

"I'm sure you do…" He licked his lips, blue eyes glistening.

"What?"

"N-Nothing…" He quickly replied, slightly flustered by his slip-up.

As much as he was enjoying the view of Dean bent over, ass pressed firmly against a pair of tight jeans (the ski outfit gladly removed), Castiel was on edge; if Dean managed to find the source of the blockage, he'd realize how much of a freak his new acquaintance really was. Stressing out over a petty article was  _so_  not attractive.

"Let me do it-"

"Cas, relax! I got it…"

"But-"

Dean whipped around, eyes narrowed and jaw tense "What don't you want me to find?"

Oh, great. So he  _hadn't_  been hiding his discomfort very well, it seemed. Dean was fixing an icy glare on him, pressing for answers he'd probably discover in due time.

"Uh…"

Suddenly, a gurgle erupted from the toilet, water spilling over the seat once again. Dean leapt back, cursing loudly, and reached for the plunger like it was a vital weapon he so desperately required. With one, swift motion, he dove the utensil deep into the toilet and lurched back with staggering force, releasing a bucket's-worth of cold, turbid water all over his chest.

Castiel blinked rapidly as the groaning ceased "Dean…?"

The younger man cast him the dirtiest of looks before wringing out his shirt and getting to his feet "Well, that was-" He stopped.

It didn't take a genius to figure out why; wedged inside the plunger was a crumpled sheet of paper that had caught his attention. Castiel could feel his face burning as Dean slowly unravelled the article and skimmed through the contents, glancing up at bright, blue eyes now and again as if to confirm that this was of Castiel's doing.

"Oh." Is all he said.

But Castiel was already gone. He fled out the front door and towards the only place he knew; the roof. Shame and self-hatred burnt his skin as he shoved against the door Dean had kicked in just a few hours ago, but the pain numbing his shoulder wasn't enough to ease the suffering inside.

 _"How could I have been such an idiot?"_ He thought to himself bitterly  _"There goes what little chance you had with this guy… the only man you've ever had feelings for. Gone."_

The snow was falling in sheets now, quickly sticking to the surface of the roof and making it all that more treacherous. Castiel could remember the sickly feeling in his stomach as he'd swayed in the wind, the rocks tearing at his flesh as he pummelled down, the sudden, breath-taking blow to his body as he hit the ground. He should have died; every aspect of that incident and the severity of his injuries suggested that he  _should_ be dead. But he hadn't, and he wasn't.

Maybe death would be better than this. At the end of the day, what did he really have going for him at the moment? Sure, he had plenty of friends who cared about him; Meg was certainly a reliable pal to turn to, his brother, Gabe loved him to bits (as he often proclaimed) and rest of his relatives were more or less supportive. But what about Hannah and Balthazar and the exceedingly high expectations of the Novak family? Most importantly, what about  _him_? What the hell was he doing with his life? He had some crappy journalist position that really had him scraping the minimum wage and all of his past hopes and dreams had yet to come true. Yes, he realized that fairy tales only existed in story books and that he couldn't expect everything to fall into place without his cooperation. And even though deep down he  _knew_ what he wanted and  _how_ to achieve it, there was just no motivation to do so. He felt tired and weak and simply  _done._

The snow felt like a thousand, tiny kisses beneath his fingertips. It melted against the warmth of his skin, but he certainly didn't feel warm. Now that he thought about it, he was wearing next to nothing compared to his earlier outfit; he still had the shirt on, though it was plastered to his skin by now, and his legs were covered with a simple pair of flannel pyjama bottoms. He slumped to the ground with a half-hearted sigh and let the cold seep into his skin… anything to distract from the nasty case of nothing swirling in the pit of his stomach.

"Just an article…" He muttered to himself through blue lips.

It wasn't about the article, he knew that. But it felt good to focus on one key part of his distaste for life instead of facing all of the ugliness at the same time.

The minutes pushed on achingly slow; there was no clock to prove it, but he could feel the earth stalling and struggling to keep up. When did get so  _cold?_  And who was playing with the lights? The stars seemed to be shutting down around him, the moon suddenly so dark. What was this sinking sensation dragging him down, down, down… ?

"Cas?!" A warm hand brushed against his cheek "You idiot! What the hell were you thinking?!"

Strong arms caught him in a tight embrace, lifting him effortlessly and slinging his fragile body over one shoulder. He felt like a damsel in distress, which might have made him smile if his lips didn't feel like were glued shut.

"It's OK, buddy… We're gonna get you inside, alright? You'll be fine…"

But he already felt fine; bundled up in the arms of his Prince, sighing softly beneath the stars and inhaling the sweet scent of his saviour's chest. He smelt nice - safe, like he could stay there forever.

* * *

His head was banging. It felt like a sledgehammer being repeatedly swung against his temple, the blood running dark against his pale skin. But, there was no blood; just the icy trickle of melted snow. He was back in the apartment and he felt warm.

"Cas?" The voice was etched with concern "Oh, thank god… I mean… What the-"

The angry Winchester slapped him.

Hard.

Castiel winced "Why did you do that?!"

Dean was glowering at him, those green eyes damn-near  _shining_ as he chewed the inside of his cheek and continued to scowl at the smaller man before him.

When he spoke again, his words were shaky "You could have died."

Castiel tried to glare back, but his expression faltered almost immediately. His face blatantly read:  _'So? Why would that even matter?'_ and it made Dean feel sick.

"You went to the roof in frickin'  _pyjamas!_ It's snowing its ass off out there and you thought that now was the right time to go and  _think?!_ "

He felt like he was being scolded by his father "You saw the article, Dean. I just… I was so embarrassed."

Dean almost crumpled at those words; here was Castiel, a drop-dead gorgeous, intelligent, witty and caring man actually thinking he was no better than some stupid example of desperation in 'Men's Weekly'.

"Yeah, I saw the article." He scoffed "You know when else I saw it? When I was taking a crap the other day."

The older man almost smiled at that, but Dean wasn't quite finished.

"You really scared me." His words were so quiet, so  _small_ , Castiel had to spare a glance to confirm that he'd actually spoken in the first place.

The intensity of those green eyes, glazed over with what Castiel knew  _couldn't_ be tears (because why would Dean be crying?) was enough confirmation.

He continued gently "I saw the article and you, what? You thought I'd be  _angry?_ "

Castiel blinked away tears, shaking his head frantically "No, I-" His shoulders slumped "I didn't want you to think I was like that…"

Dean seemed to realize what he meant, because his tight expression unravelled into one of pure hilarity "Seriously, Cas?  _Seriously?_ You think I'm that stupid?"

The older man huffed lightly but refused to meet the penetrating stare slowly peeling away his many layers, desperately searching for some honest answers. Dean at least deserved some closure; then they could get back to their own lives and forget any of this ever happened.

"You're very intelligent, Dean." He darted his eyes between the freckles that decorated the man's strong hands and his own, pale fingers curled around the armrest "I don't think you're stupid, at all."

This seemed to amuse Dean for some reason "Your hopeless, you know that?"

Castiel dipped his head "Apologies…"

A hand cupped his face, taking him by surprise. But he didn't shy away; he leaned into the touch, humming against the rough skin of Dean Winchester's palms. They were worker's hands, he observed silently- just the right size and texture to suggest vigorous labour. The thought made him tingle.

"Cas…" Dean mumbled off in the distant somewhere that  _wasn't_ nestled the between warmth and comfort of his welcoming hands "Open your eyes."

It took everything to force his eyelids up, but the result was worth it. The brunette wore an expression one could only describe as pure adoration; his eyes were lidded- deep and heavy upon him as he licked his lips anxiously. He was trembling, Castiel noted. The knots in his stomach tightened at the realization that Dean had shuffled closer, hands still cradling his face but knees now pressed against his.

And then it happened; the younger man was leaning in, cautiously, but certain. His lips were gently puckered and Castiel  _swore_  he was going to seal their mouths together. It was an idea that both terrified  _and_ enticed him, but he feared the latter would certainly lose the battle amongst his emotions.

He was thankful for the soft press of lips against his forehead, allowing himself a shaky exhalation.

Dean smiled "Those fucking eyes…"

Castiel resisted the urge to blush "My eyes are nothing out of the ordinary, Dean."

He wasn't buying it, of course "They're just… fuck, they're amazing."

Castiel  _knew_ it was a flirtation; he wasn't completely inexperienced, he reminded himself.

"I-I'm-"

"Straight," Dean chuckled, though it didn't quite meet his eyes "Yeah, I know."

"Yeah…"

Silence engulfed them; it was surprisingly comfortable, though. They didn't exchange a single glance, just soaking in the warmth of the apartment and losing themselves to the steady beat of snow bouncing against the windows.

Castiel chided himself internally; liking men really wasn't that big a deal. He was  _still_  attracted to women, he was  _still_ mourning over the loss of his ex (though the pain had regressed in the past 24 hours) and he was  _still_ the same old Castiel. Nothing about his life had to change, nothing except the deep sense of loneliness residing in his chest every time Meg or Gabriel left him for the company of a lover, or the agonising compulsion to never to wake up when things seemed particularly trying. Dean could fix that- Dean could fill that void, make him happy again. All it would take was a little bravery, a leap faith and perhaps some growing up. He wasn't that close-minded, surely. He certainly wasn't homophobic and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't attracted to Dean.

But it was just so hard…

Dean coughed against the back of his hand "Maybe I should try the front door again?"

"I like you, too."

The words seemed to have slipped out before he had time to consider the consequences; all he knew now was that green eyes were gazing into his, wide and questioning, yet brimming with emotion "You… You really? But, you're-"

"Straight," Castiel smiled, repeating Dean's previous interjection "So I've heard."

Their fingers were interlaced absentmindedly as Castiel dove into the depths of staggering green staring him down; Hannah had never laughed alongside him or taken an interest in his family (besides Balthazar, of course…) and she'd never worried about her partner's safety or emotional state. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't quite remember what he saw behind that cold, blue stare.

In Dean's eyes, he could see everything. There was sadness and fear, hope and exhilaration, contentment and relief, like and lust… He cared. This is what it felt like to be cared about.

"I…" Castiel choked "I think I want to kiss you now."

And so he did. Leaning in slowly, his cheeks still warm; he could see the goofiest grin spreading across Dean's face. Blue and green eyes fusing together with intensity as their lips parted, just inches away from sealing the gap, their breaths mingled in short, anticipated sighs…

"Beautiful."

It was the last thing Castiel heard before their mouths collided; chaste at first, still fearful, but soon caught in rhythm as the need to explore grew stronger. Dean moaned against the kiss, falling against the older man's touch and practically purring for more. He ran his fingers through a lock of raven hair and smiled at the soft sigh it received. Castiel returned the favour by brushing back Dean's fringe with a grin, liking the way it stuck in that position, all messy and unkempt.

Dean smiled against his lips, running the tip of his tongue across teeth, hesitantly asking for permission. It was soon granted, allowing the younger man to literally  _sink_ into the sensation of pure bliss. A flood of new emotions enveloped the couple, surrounding their bubble and stalling their frantic movements- Castiel pulled back reluctantly.

"I wish I could remember our first kiss…" He muttered against Dean's collarbone.

The vibrations against his skin send bolts of electricity through his body; Castiel's touch was electrifying "You were drunk and it was sloppy. This is better…"

He chuckled and placed a hand on the younger man's chest "This feels surprisingly  _right_."

Dean glanced down at Castiel's swollen lips, snapping his gaze away from the bitten flesh and up into blue eyes. He was so goddamn perfect.

"Maybe you're not as straight as you thought you were?"

That earnt him a smile "I resolved that issue long ago… I was just too scared to admit it."

The brunette peered curiously into Castiel's gaze "How long we talking?"

He shrugged "Since I broke the toilet, I suppose."

Dean shook his head lightly, a chuckle rumbling his stomach "Damn it, Cas."

Castiel didn't know how to respond, so instead he buried his head into Dean's chest, enjoying the lingering musk of leather it provided.

"All this time…"

"Just a few hours." He mumbled against flannel "Only known each other a day."

Dean chuckled again- Castiel could feel the vibration against his cheek "I don't do this with  _all_ my one-night stands, you know."

The older man pulled back, eyeing Dean humorously "I'd say our situation has evolved into a  _two_ -night stand, by now."

The soothing circular motions against the small of his back ceased as Dean stiffened.

"Well, it  _could_ be…"

He knew that look; it was one of hunger and lust. Dean wanted him,  _desired_ him. And as he was looking into those green eyes, he felt like a virgin all over again… Yes, he'd had sex with Dean the night before, but it was something he could scarcely recall and being that it was his  _only_ experience with a man, the thought of throwing himself at Dean like a horny teenager terrified him.

"I-I…"

The younger man smiled gently, cutting him off "Hey, don't worry about it."

Castiel blushed, but Dean continued.

"Feels like ya first time again, doesn't it?"

He loved how Dean could read his mind so effortlessly, but right there and then, he felt like curling up into a ball and disappearing. White-hot shame burnt his face as he fiddled with the buttons of Dean's shirt and shrugged casually.

"I suppose so, yes."

Dean's grin soon dissolved as he brushed a finger down Castiel's cheek, his heart fluttering at the way the older man shuddered by his touch "Then I guess I'll have to treat you with some respect."

Castiel shot him a confused glared "Isn't that mandatory?"

He ignored the comment, though his heart was thudding- Castiel's mannerisms were always so  _literal_ and quite honestly, it turned him  _the_   _fuck_ on.

"You're so gorgeous." He grinned "Don't pout!"

And then they were on the sofa, lips finding one another with ease and hands fumbling pathetically with buttons, zips and straps.


	6. I'll teach you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild/slightly explicit sexual content.

Castiel hit the sofa with some force, his head smacking the armrest with a dull thud and causing him to wince. Dean was hovering over him with a ridiculous grin that only intensified with the older man's cursing.

"Oh, that hurt?" He chuckled.

He didn't wait for a response before leaning in to seal Castiel's lips and muffle his cries of protest, insisting that they needed to find somewhere more 'comfortable'.

Dean  _was_ comfortable; with Castiel's hands gripping his arms and one leg wrapped around his waist, he was on cloud nine. Blue eyes bored into green, swollen lips demanding to be sucked and gently nipped, trembling fingers desperate to explore…

"Dean," Castiel could scarcely breathe "W-Wait!"

And he did- the tangle of emotions dancing across Castiel's quivering expression was enough to spring him back into reality. He shot up, brow furrowed with concern "You alright?"

Castiel wriggled from Dean's grasp and curled up on the opposite end of the sofa, bottom lip wobbling and eyes wide. He looked terrified, to say the least.

His mind was racing, functioning at twice its normal rate and thus inflicting a twinge of pain behind his frown. This wasn't the plan, he realized- he was supposed to marry Hannah, grow old and grey and fat, inevitably. By the time he was 60, he'd be bouncing grandchildren on his knees and reminiscing with his wife, telling the story of how they'd met in the museum all that time ago and instantly  _clicked._

He'd tell them how he'd studied Hannah's posture carefully from afar, too scared to emerge from his hiding place for fear of being called a stalker, or worse… Black curls had hung loosely about her shoulders; blue eyes piercing the painting in front of her as if she were trying to take it apart mentally, piece by piece.

And then, with an ounce of hesitation, he'd approached her. They'd introduced themselves, laughed, made small talk as they'd strolled down the corridors- too occupied with each other to appreciate the stunning interior. It had certainly  _felt_ like love, at the time. When her face had brightened at Castiel's invitation to dinner, or she'd touched the small of his back later on that day and his skin had tingled, it  _must_ have been love.

What else could it have been?

Every fibre of his being was urging him to get up and leave, to climb to the roof and freeze in the snow instead of sitting there with another man. His mind was grasping at sweet memories- Hannah tapping him on the back, surprising him with a kiss as he turned around; the music that played on their first date, a rich and intoxicating melody that still rung in his ears; his hands enclosed in hers and how the world to sleep away at their simple touch.

_You were happy, remember? She loved you and you loved her._

But that wasn't  _just_  it, of course. It would be easy to drown out the bad memories and convince yourself that they were all good, that each morning had started with cuddles and every conversation was light and effortless. A part of him even wished that that was all he  _could_ remember- ignorance was bliss, after all. But he couldn't and he  _knew_  he shouldn't.

_It's always been women, Castiel; you're first kiss with Meg Masters, losing your virginity to April Kelly, falling in love with Hannah Johnson…_

He glanced at Dean, licking his lips anxiously "I… What- Um…"

The younger man seemed to understand- his shoulders slumped as he ran a hand over his face, foot tapping unconsciously against the coffee table "Ah, Cas… shit, I'm sorry. I-I didn't think." He dropped his hand hesitantly "Do you wanna stop?"

Castiel only gawked at him.

Dean was patient and kind and understanding; even if he chose to be hard on himself, anyone in their right mind with half a brain cell could see how strong he was. Green eyes softened at Castiel's insistent twitching and he placed a hand on the older man's leg to ease the tremble. It was a gentle yet persistent touch that send a cold shiver down his spine.

"Cas, hey…" Warm hands cupped his face "We don't have to go there, not if you don't want to. Not if you can't handle it."

A wave of sudden emotions washed over Castiel- staring into that reassuring gaze and feeling the tingling brush of Dean's fingers cradling his face made him feel completely and utterly  _safe._

_You've loved women your whole life, Castiel._

His hands fluttered to grasp Dean's arms once more, almost recoiling at the nervous tremor racking the brunette's body. His breaths were ragged as he outlined the subtle ridges and curves of muscle beneath his jacket, a blush creeping up his neck.

 _You've never even_ thought  _of men in that way, before. Why now? Why him?_

Dean chewed the inside of his cheek as Castiel continued to 'feel him up'. It felt good, it felt nice- but he was suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious. Christ, he'd  _turned_ this blue eyed beauty into something else; he'd influenced his thought process and mangled his sexuality. Dean was the first man he'd been with and all at once, the weight of that responsibility collapsed upon him.

His voice hitched in his throat "Cas-"

Fingers pressed against his lips, silencing whatever nonsense was about to come tumbling out his mouth.

"Dean."

Castiel looked confused, like he was studying the younger man's face, searching for some answer to a question Dean couldn't possibly comprehend. His skin brushed against the soft flesh of Dean's mouth- his fingertips practically buzzing with nervous energy at the intimate contact.

 _Why_ him, _Castiel?_

Dean's pupils were wide in the low light, pushing the flecks of green aside and stealing away his usual confidence. Golden brown tufts of hair, almost reaching blonde in some areas, stood about his head chaotically- he looked distressed. Last night, he'd worn a mask of self-assurance, supported with a winning smile and sharp gaze, hair impeccably styled. Now, he seemed so small and unsure of himself.

His hands briefly skimmed the bare flesh beneath the younger man's collar, the beating of his heart now loud and clear in the silence of the apartment. Dean watched him with a lidded gaze, lips slightly parted and breathing in the scent of Castiel's shampoo, still wafting a subtle fragrance from his raven hair. Inaudible whispers were exchanged- Dean whining Castiel's name, conflicted as to whether or not he wanted him to stop his caressing, or take it further.

_It's too soon, it's too sudden. You can't fall for someone so quickly…_

"Do you want this, Cas?" His words were strangled, confused.

Castiel gave his eyes free roam, allowing himself to soak up the image of a flustered Dean Winchester practically  _begging_ him to stop teasing. A light blush painted his face, brightening his eyes and only making him seem more afraid.

"I-I… don't know, exactly…" He smiled sheepishly, continuing to trace non-existent patterns across Dean's collarbone.

The brunette released a shaky laugh and readjusted himself on the couch "Thought you were Mr. Straight-Forward."

Castiel allowed himself a chuckle, hands pressed against the rise and fall of Dean's chest "One might say you've clouded my judgement…"

Dean hummed against his hairline and dropped his hands to Castiel's waist, gently squeezing his hips and hooking his thumbs in the loop of his jeans "I tend to have that effect on alotta guys… girls, too, for that matter."

Their nervous laughter was muffled by hair, skin and clothes- they were pressed so close together, now, absorbing one another, providing warmth and comfort; becoming one.

"This is so strange." Castiel admitted, burying his head in Dean's chest.

A gruff voice vibrated against his cheeks "Well, no one said it was easy, Cas." His grip on Castiel's waist intensified "I'll be the first to tell you it's  _fucking hard_ …"

The older man ceased his panting, settling into a steady rhythm of even breaths that synchronised with those pushing his face back and forth, back and forth… "H-How did you… Who did you tell first?"

Dean stiffened momentarily, his heart beat quickening "It was rough," He sighed "I came out when I was 16- told the family I liked guys as well as girls..."

When his voice trailed off, Castiel propped himself up, leaning on his elbows and giving Dean a signature head tilt "What happened?"

His face contorted before he spoke, his expression twisted as if the memories were too painful to recollect "My mum accepted it… hell, she  _encouraged_ it!" The ghost of a smile played on his lips at the mention of his mother, but it soon dissolved into a vicious sneer "My dad didn't take it so well."

Castiel nodded curtly, not needing to take the conversation any further. He was relieved when the soothing circles recommenced between his shoulder blades- it was Dean's way of letting the matter drop and reassuring him that he was fine.

_Why is your heart racing? Why are your hands trembling?_

They kept to their little bubble for quite some time, Dean running his fingers up Castiel's spine and in return, Castiel hushing Dean's frantic breathes with small, hesitant kisses along his collarbone. Blue and green eyes melted into one another's gaze, brown and black hair brushing side by side with tight embraces and fumbled pecks.

Dean suddenly pulled back, eying Castiel with suspicious humour "Doesn't this all seem kinda porno-y to you?"

The older man frowned; his forehead knitted together with lines of confusion "I don't quite understand."

Dean threw his head back and chuckled lightly "We're snowed in,  _forced_  to share each other's company, nothing else to do to pass the time…"

Heat flooded Castiel's face "Oh-"

"Don't worry, Cas. No hidden cameras, I promise!"

A sudden gust of wind rattled the windows, making the couple spring apart with wide eyes and red faces. When they realized it was just the storm, they had to laugh it off (rather awkwardly) and resume their position tangled together on the couch.

Castiel grinned against Dean's chest "The snow is watching us…"

 _"Pervert!"_ He growled, shaking a fist at the window theatrically and attempting a straight face- it only made Castiel's smile widen.

"Let it watch."

And then he was pulling Dean forward by the collar of his shirt, crashing their lips together with desperation. His eyes were hungry- the usual deep blue now darkened with desire and eyelids heavy as he deepened the kiss.

A surprised whimper escaped Dean's mouth, soon evolving into lustful moans that vibrated against Castiel's lips. He chuckled at the tingling sensation, grabbing fistfuls of sandy brown hair and practically wrenching Dean forward to meet him in a clumsy embrace.

"Closer," He mumbled "Want you closer…"

Dean inhaled a shaky breath, chuckling weakly as their noses brushed "What  _happened_ to you?"

Hands gripped the back of his neck, trailing soft touches across his skin- Castiel's fingers were deft and electrifying as they worked, almost uncharacteristically.

"You…" He huffed between breathes "Bent over toilet…" A smile "Chocolate moustache…" Soft moans of appreciation "Very attractive…"

Dean grinned like an idiot as he pushed Castiel back against the couch, tongue darting boldly against his swollen lips "It's a burden I accept."

Castiel smiled at the lingering taste of chocolate ghosting Dean's mouth- it felt soft and pliable against his own, yet held a sense of dominance as it nipped playfully at the corners of his lips. They were bruised and love-bitten from Dean's insistent sucking, but Castiel didn't mind; he revelled in the tenderness, encouraged by sighs of longing and impatient tugs.

The Winchester smelled of old leather and whipped cream; Castiel soon became engulfed by the aroma, basking in the rich authenticity Dean provided. Hands dropped to the buttons of his flannel shirt, fumbling desperately to undo each and every obstacle that kept his curious fingers from exploring the flesh beneath.

A smirk traced his lips when the remnants of chest hair brushed against his skin; it was strange, running his hands over Dean's rough exterior instead of the usual silky soft flesh women acquired.

 _You're actually_ enjoying  _this…_

Dean planted several tentative kisses trailing down Castiel's arms- the itch to strip him bare was all too strong and he was afraid of over-stepping his boundaries.

"Cas," He breathed "Need to tell you something…"

Blue eyes sparkled with curiosity "Yes, Dean?"

They pulled back from one another, lips parted. It didn't take a genius to realize that Dean was feeling anxious; his leg twitched as he ran a shaky hand through his hair and sighed.

"Yeah… you know how I told you that last night was, er… awesome?"

Castiel nodded curtly, urging Dean to continue.

"Well, about that…" He chuckled nervously "I mighta lied."

The older man flushed "Oh."

"No, no!" Dean had to quickly backtrack, not liking the look of utter disappointment that clouded Castiel's face "I didn't…  _not_ like it, or anything! It's just, er… well, your  _inexperience_ was kind of obvious, now that I think about it." He smiled gently to ease the tension "And you were pissed."

Castiel shifted in his seat, fingers drumming the back of the couch absentmindedly "So… our first sexual encounter was, insufficient?"

His shoulders tensed as Dean chortled anxiously "Not  _quite_ how I'd put it but, yeah, Cas. It wasn't the best."

It felt like a punch to the stomach, watching Castiel slowly shrink down with embarrassment; he wished he hadn't mentioned it, but a part of him knew it wasn't right to keep secrets. He didn't want them to rush into things again- he  _wanted_ it to mean something, like it was their first time once more. There was a lot of messed up shit going on in his life, stuff that would probably cause issues for them sooner rather than later, but despite all of it, he could honestly see a future with the blue eyed stranger sitting beside him.

No. Stranger was  _not_ the right term anymore; they might have only known each other for a couple of days,  _if that_ , but he already felt more comfortable with Castiel than he did with his own family (spare Sammy, of course)!

"Hey," He breathed, taking the older man's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze "You honestly think I care about last night?"

Castiel shrugged one shoulder meekly, refusing to meet Dean's gaze.

"Fuck, for your first time… it wasn't half bad!"

The tension was still heavy, but slightly eased by Dean's reassurance. Castiel returned the hand squeeze and leaned into his space, releasing an exasperated sigh as his head met Dean's shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled bashfully.

Dean pushed him back immediately, tenderness tinged with frustration twinkling in his eyes "Can it with that  _crap_ , Cas!" He cupped his face with caring hands "I don't want to hear you apologising like that anymore, ya hear?"

His voice was etched with an austerity that caught Castiel off guard "Uh… y-yes, Dean. But-"

"No," The younger man turned his head ever so slightly, as if the mere glimpse of remorse flooding Castiel's face made him feel sick "Stop, alright?"

After a long pause, green eyes met blue, softened once more and shimmering with something Castiel couldn't begin to decipher "I'm only bringing it up so, you know…" He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly "You don't feel flustered or anything if we decide to, er…"

"Try again?" Castiel finished Dean's sentence, a bemused expression veiling his face "Why would you want to try again if, if..."

He covered his face with trembling hands - very much like a teenage drama queen, to his dismay - and exhaled a shaky breath between his fingers. It wasn't long before he felt the warmth of Dean's skin brush against his knuckles, accompanied by soothing 'shushes' trickling down his ear.

"I want to try again because I  _like_ you," Dean grinned, like it was the most obvious thing in the world "Yeah, I sound like a love-sick juvenile… screw it! I  _like_ you, Castiel Novak. And now you're stuck with me." He mumbled the last words into the flop of black hair that had fallen across Castiel's face, going on to plant an innocent kiss upon his forehead.

Castiel shuddered at the touch, but still couldn't quite shift the uneasiness residing in his chest "I'm just afraid that you're this…  _amazing_  person with so much confidence, so  _sure_ of yourself, a-and  _I'm_ just…" He spared a feeble glance at the brunette before continuing "I'm just this scared little man still stumbling his way out the closet."

Dean chuckled lightly, pinching the bridge of his nose and tilting his head back "Oh, Cas. That's classic."

The older man tilted his head despondently "I don't see why my struggling to come to terms with my sexuality is amusing…"

"No, man," Dean shook his head, still smiling to himself "You're just such an idiot."

Castiel squared his shoulders "And I don't see why that was called f-"

His mouth was stilled with a pair of insistent lips, soft and vigilant, but ravenous all the same. For a moment, his hands didn't know where to land; hips felt too intimate, but sides felt too awkward… of all the kisses they'd shared, this one was certainly the game-stopper. It was as if Dean was pouring every inch of himself, every feeling, every thought, into this one kiss. Castiel was afraid of messing that up.

After a moment's hesitation, he allowed his fingers to brush the hairs of Dean's neck. The younger man smiled against his lips, taking the touch as permission to deepen the kiss, tongue grazing over the barrier of teeth before slipping gracefully between the predatory muscles of Castiel's own. They kissed lazily for a while, enjoying the mutual dominance that allowed them to focus on their curious hands, as well. Dean slipped his fingers beneath Castiel's shirt, glad for the absence of the man's trenchcoat that would surely have gotten in the way otherwise, and began trailing his touch up the ridges of his spine.

"D-Dean!" He gasped as a second hand gripped his ass.

The younger man chuckled mischievously "Relax… I'm gonna show you how it's done. I'm gonna tell you how I like it."

Castiel found himself shuddering once more as he practically flattened Dean's hand with his twitching rear-end "I can't remember last night… any of it-"

"Shh…" Dean lips enclosed his left ear "Calm down, Cas. Enjoy it…"

He swallowed thickly, nodding his head repeatedly although he knew Dean was more focussed on chewing his earlobe off. His mind was racing again, irresolute thoughts nudging the corners of his brain now engulfed with brazen lust, desperately trying to reason with the majority of his thoughts revolved around how  _great_ Dean's fingers felt circling his hole through his jeans…

_If you do this, there's no going back! Admit it; you like this man, maybe more- there's no antidote for that. Do you really want to suffer heartbreak again?_

Castiel clutched the thick of Dean's arm frantically, eyes wide and questioning "Dean?"

He felt the warmth of Dean's touch abandon his face, drifting off to his trembling hands, instead. No words needed to be exchanged because he just  _knew…_ somehow, he understood the lingering grief of a broken heart stinging the backs of those blue orbs; he could relate to, perhaps from experience, Castiel considered, the agonising loss of a person you never expected to lose. They both had a history, of course, but then that was a thing of the past. This was the present and it felt  _good_.

Dean shook his head definitely, leaning his weight against the older man and breathing in the faint musk of porridge oats and snow long-forgotten "I won't leave you." His words were so sincere, almost choked…

And he believed him-  _fuck,_  he believed him! It was enough to stamp a permanent grin on his usually sombre expression and leave him feeling high as a kite for days because  _Dean wanted him!_ This gorgeous, funny, outspoken young man with eyes luscious like the forest and lips sporting the sexiest of cupid's bows actually  _wanted_ him! He suddenly couldn't care less about the pitiful reservations of his apparent bisexuality; he was smitten.

"I want you to make love to me."

The gravel of Castiel's voice worked like Viagra surging through his veins and Dean instantly felt himself harden against the brush of his lover's fingers gingerly inspecting his crotch.

"Cas, a-are you-"

It was Castiel's turn to cut  _him_ off, which he chose to do by cupping the bulge constrained against his jeans, receiving a sharp gasp of unexpected pleasure from Dean.

An uncharacteristic grin shed across his face at the pure satisfaction of making Dean Winchester squirm; the sudden flush of cheeks and reassuring pants of approval were enough to make him hot downstairs and he  _desperately_  desired Dean's touch in return.

His silent pleas were granted as rough hands began fumbling with his belt, picking up from earlier, and tossing the obstacle across the room. He chuckled at Dean's insistence and continued to tease him through his pants, threatening to throw him over the edge all-too-soon. They were shortly stripped down to their boxers - both miraculously colour coordinated according to their eyes - and building up a sheen of sweat that eased the fluency of his movements.

"Fuck…" Dean cursed breathlessly as nimble fingers worked him through the thin material covering his cock "Is this what you do to yourself?"

Castiel shrugged off the blush creeping up his neck and smile sheepishly "When I have occasion, yes."

It was apparently the correct response as Dean released a strangled moan that could only signify that he was close-  _very close_.

They started on their upper halves, grateful that they were already half way through and past the infuriating stage of all those  _damn_ buttons. Dean's flannel shirt was soon discarded, as well as the lose-fitting t-shirt he'd swapped Castiel's sodden shirt for earlier; the thought of Dean innocently stripping him as he slept made him tingle…

"Bedroom." He growled.

Dean obliged with quick, lustful nods as he hauled the smaller man to his feet and dragged him to the bed, practically shoving him against the sheets and lunging forward with carnivorous persistence. They grinned against each and every kiss, hands finding each other clumsily above the headboard and hips grinding against one another.

Dean slipped a hand beneath Castiel's boxers, grabbing a handful of his swollen member and smearing pre-cum over the shaft with a devilish titter. The older man groaned against the palm of his hand, which was soon removed by Dean who insisted he heard _every_  single noise that escaped those perfectly plump lips of his.

Impatience soon found them stark naked, alternating the pace between soft, attentive kisses and longing touches that soon dispersed to their nether regions. Both dicks twitched simultaneously as Dean wrapped a dominant hand around them, sliding the slickness of their juices over the organs greedily and supressing a lustful moan. He knew that if he kept this rhythm up for much longer, they'd both come embarrassingly soon, so he released his grasp reluctantly, replacing his hand on Castiel's ass and planting a series of gentle pecks along the man's chest. His lips followed the faint snail trail he appeared to be sporting (which he admittedly found insanely hot) and stopped teasingly at the dark tuft of hair above his crotch.

"Dean…" Castiel warned, his pupils blissfully dilated "Stop dicking around!"

He had to laugh, partly for the accidental pun, but mainly for the sheer ridiculousness of such language rolling off Castiel's tongue. If only he knew what he did to him…

With that, he proceeded to follow the vein of Castiel's erect member with one long, teasing lick. He grinned at the shuddered moan it received and darted his tongue deftly across the slit, accompanied by a quick roll of his fist along the shaft.

"Last night," He spoke gruffly "You started out fast and didn't vary the pace at all, you know?"

Castiel merely nodded, lips tightly pursed to resist the urge of releasing pleasurable sighs.

Dean smiled wickedly at the strained response "Just go with the moment, alright? Start slow," He demonstrated with soft, consistent strokes "And then experiment a little…" He quickened the pace suddenly, palm quickly lubricated with pre-cum.

The older man grabbed fistfuls of the sheets around them, gnawing on his bottom lip with eyes screwed shut; he was  _really_ holding on for dear life.

"Sneaky tongue…" Dean breathed seductively down Castiel's ear, smirking at the way he wriggled at the warm breath tickling his skin. He placed a gentle kiss on the tip of his cock, gradually pumping the base of the organ and occasionally cupping his balls. When his mouth engulfed the fully-hard member, cheeks instantly hollowing to build the pressure, Castiel practically cried aloud.

"D-Dean!"

It didn't take much more until he was coming with short spasms and red cheeks, flopping against the mattress with a lazy grin.

Dean quirked an eyebrow - because, sometimes it was  _really_  fun to play the 'I just sucked a dick, what you gonna about it?' game - and smoothed a hand over Castiel's thigh "Awesome?"

"A-Awesome." He tried the word out, tasting it momentarily before sinking back into the depths of pleasure and remembering that he couldn't care less  _what_ he said or  _how_ it sounded at that very moment in time.

After several comfortable minutes of silence, the younger man coughed tenaciously, though he kept his gaze strictly on the ground and struggled to keep the heat from his face "Not to be forward or anything, Cas… but-"

"I would very much like to return the favour, Dean."

The brunette jumped at Castiel's honesty, making his semi-hard dick twitch with yearning. He actually  _wanted_ to give him a blowjob, despite his previous bashfulness towards his coming out, and that was enough to make his heart swell with some cryptic emotion.

He swallowed thickly "O-Only if you  _really_ want to… yeah, Cas?"

The older man nodded in the most delectably innocent fashion (as innocent as you  _can_ be on the verge of sucking someone's penis) and licked his lips anxiously. With some reluctance, he shuffled into the right position, with Dean now laid out on his back, and gently sucked the length of his cock with hesitant kisses. It was not  _hot_ so much as frickin'  _adorable_ , but it was enough to harden him the rest of the way and have him hissing between ragged breathes.

"Yeah, Cas…" He groaned, hoping that vocal appreciation would boost his confidence as Castiel proceeded to swallow his entire length "Just k-keep doing what you're doing…"

It was sloppy and hesitant at first, with the rhythm stooping to repetitive at times, but Dean couldn't help but think that he'd never been more aroused by oral before in his life. He politely guided Castiel through the delicate procedure - when he wasn't struggling not to reach his peak too soon - and told him when to use his hand, how fast or slow to go, when tongue was appropriate, if he should take advantage of the tip's sensitivity… Luckily, he'd already heard that teeth were a no-no, but the innocent wide-eyed look he'd given him on many occasions had Dean wondering if he'd ever even  _received_  a blowjob from a  _woman_ before, let alone given one to another man. He decided it was a personal subject to touch on, but silently hoped Castiel would eventually trust him enough to disclose such information.

When he came, it was with muffled cries of Castiel's name- he had to blush when he realized he'd practically yanked his head forward at the last minute, trying to bury himself as deep as he could for his final release. Castiel didn't seem to mind though, even if his hair was even more dishevelled and he'd had to swallow the salty seed.

"That was…" Dean ran a hand over his face and chuckled "Fuck, that was awesome!"

Castiel grinned (something Dean thankfully noticed becoming a regular occurrence) and propped himself up on his elbows, balancing his chin between his palms "I've never… that was… Hannah never-" He immediately cut himself off, flushing shamefully for mentioning his ex.

Dean merely waved him off with a gentle smile "Ah, Cas… don't worry about it! You loved her and you're bound to mention her. I'm not gonna go all jealous and Hulk out on you."

Of course, Castiel tilted his head, brow furrowed "I don't understand that reference."

The younger man shot him a perplexed stare before grinning like an idiot "You're adorable."

"Shut up!" Castiel blushed darkly.

Dean's face only softened further, the affectionate look ironing out the tired wrinkles and thus de-aging him by half a decade. Castiel took note of the dilated pupils and lazy smile hanging from his lips, wondering if this is what a man looked like when he was completely and utterly infatuated with another. He knew that it was silly to be thinking about such things so early on, but he couldn't help but feel like he was wearing the same expression…

"Right!" Dean snapped him out of his daze "Tea break and then onto round 2…"

Castiel offered a sheepish smile "I'm presuming that round 2 involves us becoming far more intimate in our sexual relations?"

Dean chuckled, glancing over his shoulder to meet the blue-eyed gaze "Oh, Cas…" He smirked knowingly "We're only just getting started."


	7. This could work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit sexual content.

Castiel nursed the steaming cup of tea in his hands and tried not to smile  _too_ much over the fact that Dean had remembered how he took it exactly. The warm taste was tinged with the sweetness of extra sugar as it trickled down his throat- not  _quite_ as much as Gabriel preferred, but enough to leave semi-dissolved granules sticking to the bottom of the cup.

"Good?" Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly.

He smiled around the burning mouthful and bobbed his head reassuringly. The whole situation was so surreal; he was struggling to come to terms with the fact that he was most likely just moments away from being jumped by a very naked Dean Winchester and successfully seduced by his endless charm and tremendous tea-making skills.

The younger man leaned over him - wearing a suggestive grin - to place his mug on the bedside table. According to the alarm clock that caught Castiel's eye, it was close to midnight. That meant that he'd spent the entire day with Dean; his heart beat quickened at the thought.

"Very excellent." He reiterated vocally, placing his mug alongside the brunette's.

Dean smirked and gave a nonchalant shrug "Well, my talents are far from limited…"

"I don't disagree."

Castiel blushed furiously at how sensual that sounded, turning his attention to the glaring red numbers on the clock until the heat receded from his cheeks.

"You've got first-hand experience, though, haven't ya, Cas?" Dean chuckled at how easily embarrassed the older man could be, but didn't press the matter.

A comfortable silence fell about them and Castiel hesitated before giving in and resting his face against the bare warmth of Dean's chest. The younger man stiffened at the sudden embrace, but soon relaxed against the touch and allowed a flicker of a smile to cross his lips. As he glanced down at the mess of black hair snugging against him, he couldn't deny the sense of utter contentment that washed over him.

And then it suddenly hit him - like a tonne of bricks - and he felt stupid for not realizing it sooner.

"Cas-"

But his words were swallowed by a lazy kiss, soft and lacking the usual uncertainty Castiel normally acquired. He pulled back reluctantly to meet a pair of large, twinkling blue eyes.

Castiel shifted awkwardly for a moment "This is… quite perfect." He admitted quietly.

Dean's eyes were lidded as he spoke, shaking his head lightly as the words came out "How have I only just found you?"

It was a rhetorical question, Castiel presumed, but he felt obligated to answer. He searched his mind for some kind of canny remark to bring out the blinding smile he'd became addicted to, or perhaps an equally cheesy reply inspired from one of those movies stashed away in Gabriel's cupboard that his brother didn't know he'd discovered years ago.

But none of that felt appropriate, so instead he recalled his earlier conversation with Meg and smiled slightly "Things of value tend to be buried deep…" He glanced up at soulful, green eyes "Maybe we both needed to dig through the messed up shit in our lives before finding something good."

Dean inhaled sharply before brushing a hand gingerly across Castiel's arm "That was so chick-flick…"

He rolled his eyes with an irritant sigh "I believe you started it."

Dean grinned like a school boy, clashing their lips together and carding his fingers through the back of Castiel's hair "I liked it…"

It was like pumping adrenaline through his veins; Dean's touch was electrifying, wiping away his lethargic state and sitting him bolt upright to straddle the younger man's lap. Hannah used to like this position when they kissed and he asked himself if maybe  _he_ was the feminine one in this relationship, but he immediately scolded himself internally for being so narrow-minded; there were no  _rules_ to being gay and you certainly didn't need to follow the petty stereotype of macho-man falling for egotistical camp guy. Just because he liked Dean, didn't mean he had to suddenly change to fit the expected image of a homosexual; he was still  _him_ \- just a happier version.

"And I like it when you curse," Dean chuckled against his jawline "Seem more relaxed… more comfortable…"

He pulled back to study Castiel's face, eyes narrowed and lips pursed in concentration as if he were trying to contemplate something. A flicker of anxiety crossed his expression which almost instantly melted away into a smile. He nodded curtly "I like you."

Castiel laughed lightly, shoving a gentle hand into Dean's shoulder "I think we've established that, Dean."

"No," The brunette furrowed his brow and clasped his hands around Castiel's wrists eagerly "I  _like_ you… a-a lot." He shrugged sheepishly " _A lot,_  a lot…"

" _A lot,_ a lot?" Castiel repeated the words tentatively.

A devilish grin spread across Dean's face as he flipped the older man over, pushing him down onto the bed slowly "A lot, a lot,  _a lot_ , a lot, a lot…" He chanted in a hushed tone until his face was just inches away from the blue eyes gazing up at him.

Castiel frowned slightly "I'm afraid 'a lot' no longer sounds like the correct term of phrase."

"Maybe I should stop, then…" Dean chuckled breathlessly.

"Maybe you… should… um… should…" He trailed off, finding himself lost in the dazzling green orbs surrounding his vision.

Luckily, no words needed to be shared he realized when a pair of insistent lips engulfed his own. It was delicate and patient; for the first time, they decided to appreciate their time together, which didn't involve rushing into things unnecessarily. Fingers brushed against shoulders and mouths found places to gently suck and tease in a somewhat elegant performance of bodily exploration.

It was only when Dean positioned his knee rather suggestively between Castiel's legs, briefly rubbing against the semi-swollen member bobbing against his chest, that things quickly became rather heated.

"Dean!" He gasped at the unexpected contact, his grip on the younger man's hips intensifying.

Their lips found each another in a clumsy embrace, hands fisting eagerly into hair with  _terrifying_  urgency. Dean grinned against the bruising kiss as he bucked his hips forward to grind his newfound erection against Castiel's, loving how he squirmed helplessly under his control.

"Round 2 already? My, I  _must_ be good…"

Castiel glared at him through dark, lust-filled eyes "You overestimate your abilities, Dean."

The brunette chuckled fondly "Ah, is that so?"

"It is." He was suddenly flung against the headboard with impressive strength "In fact, I'd be willing to bet my trenchcoat on the presumption that you wouldn't last five minutes with me in charge before  _begging_ to be taken there and then…"

Dean blinked in genuine shock as he tried to regain his breath "Aha… you really willing to risk that precious coat of yours on such a ridiculous bet?" He asked weakly.

A smug smile pulled at the corners of his mouth "I'm confident it will be rather safe on such terms."

Dean was about to shoot back with a snarky reply, but lost the ability to form coherent sentences as a hand wrapped around his length and began pumping him tentatively. It didn't take long for him to start seriously doubting his chances against Castiel.

"W-Woah, uh-"

"Shh…" Castiel pressed a finger to his lips, silencing whatever sarcastic comment was bound to come pouring out.

His movements were far more confident now as he straddled Dean's lap, pressing his groin against his throbbing member purposely to receive a howl-like moan of appreciation. Although his cheeks were burning with whatever shred of humiliation he had left, he didn't hesitate before leaning in and ghosting his lips against Dean's jawline. The younger man bucked his hips shamelessly as a second hand gripped the back of his neck and brought him forward into a ravenous kiss.

"Cas…" He mumbled absentmindedly against the other man's lips.

His vision was hazy with lust- all he could see was a pair of dark, lidded blue eyes boring into his own as he continued to work Dean under the covers. Soon, his breath was catching in his throat and his cries became insistent, pleading…

And then the warmth abandoned him, leaving his cock twitching with impatience. He glared up at Castiel who wore the biggest shit-eating grin he'd ever witnessed and huffed before trying to finish the job himself.

His hands were stilled as a gruff voice breathed against his ear "No."

Despite the longing throb tenting the sheets, he couldn't bring himself to defy such a dominant command. He brought his eyes up to meet Castiel's, gulping subtly at the older man's lascivious expression.

"Do you surrender?"

Dean was a manly-man, he liked to believe; in all of his relationships, he wasn't shy of taking the leading role as a partner. Sure, he was never  _sexist_ or  _controlling_ , but there was a certain appeal to being in charge in such situations, sex included. His past lovers never seemed to complain as he took the top position automatically or made the first move without reluctance. But, there he was last night, riding Castiel like there was no tomorrow, and here he was now, so close to giving in and admitting that he no longer had the upper hand.

"Just get on with it, bitch…" He groaned.

Castiel grinned momentarily before hoisting Dean forward and flipping their positions. He shifted uncomfortably against the sheets, frowning to himself as if he were trying to decide something.

Dean fell back and quickly adjusted to his new station "Cas?"

"I believe I asked you to make love to me," He breathed, his voice scarcely audible "I'd still like that very much…"

Dean had to take a moment to appreciate the scene before him; Castiel was laid out against the bed, legs inching apart as his blue eyes twinkled with a mixture of lust, hesitation and fear. His raven hair was wonderfully mussed to match the crinkled disturbance of the sheets and clothes scattered amongst the ground and his lips were slightly parted as he panted quietly in waiting for Dean's response.

"Are you sure?"

It felt like years before he answered- Castiel slowly pulled him down to meet their lips in a lazy kiss, his fingers brushing the ridges of his spine. After a short while, the welcome touch departed from his mouth (which continued to caress the air idly in a late reaction to the absence of Castiel's lips) and he had to force his eyes open once again.

"I'm sure."

He gave a short nod before dropping his hand to Castiel's crotch, slowly working his semi-hard cock to match the aching throb of his own. The older man's pupils blew up at the sudden surge of pleasure coursing through his veins and he struggled to keep his eyes open- he  _wanted_ to watch Dean as he brought him closer and closer to the edge; he  _wanted_ to extend the intimacy of the situation even further.

Dean smirked at the quickly-hardened member beneath his palms and reached over to the drawer swiftly, retrieving a bottle of clear liquid that seemed foreign to Castiel.

_What is that? Am I missing something? Oh, no… I don't know what I'm doing!_

"Um, I-"

"Don't worry, Cas." Dean smiled knowingly at his flustered expression "We used this last night, OK?"

Castiel nodded sheepishly; he still couldn't recall the events of the previous night, as much as he might have liked to. He knew from Dean's description that it hadn't gone all-too well, but that didn't keep him from wondering what to expect when their sweat-slicken bodies were entwined in the sheets, pressed closely to one another and  _begging_ for more, more, more…

"I don't know what to do, Dean."

A hand soon found his own, finger tips tracing soothing patterns across his knuckles. Dean gave a crinkly smile and leaned forward to plant a soft kiss between Castiel's eyes.

"I'll show you. You'll be safe, promise."

His olive green eyes were so sincere as he spoke, like he was trying to send Castiel a thousand different emotions in that single gaze. It was enough to ease his thumping hard and trembling body, slowly becoming engulfed by the fear of not knowing and the apprehension of starting such a new and enticing chapter in his life.

Dean would look after him. Dean would treat him right.

All mushy thoughts were obliterated at the burning sensation that prickled through his rear. He yelped -  _loudly_ \- and recoiled to the other end of the bed, shielding himself from whatever heinous being threatened to induce such pain again.

When his mind had gained focus once more, he felt his stomach drop at a rather depleted looking Dean eyeing him cautiously. His eyes were wide, lips parted, and his face was flushed with what Castiel presumed was either guilt or surprise. Maybe both.

"That hurt." He shrugged helplessly.

Dean relaxed ever so slightly and ran a hand through his hair "Cas, I… I'm so sorry, man. I thought I was going gentle!"

This only made him feel worse- if one finger proved to be such an intrusion, searing indescribable discomfort through his lower body, how would two or three feel? How would  _Dean_ feel- deep inside him, thick and hot and heavy, thrusting relentlessly with all hope that Castiel would at least receive  _some_ kind of pleasure to fight the flames? It seemed unlikely. How could anyone find  _pleasure_ in such a thing? The whole situation suddenly seemed much less magical and all-too real for his liking.

"Hey, Cas…  _Fuck_ , I'm so sorry… I-"

Castiel shoved him playfully - a show of endearment Gabriel often felt partial to - and shook his head insistently "No, Dean.  _My_ apologises… I wasn't prepared for such a, uh, well… such a sensation."

He was relieved to see Dean's face relax ever-so-slightly and the familiar, mischievous glimmer return to his eyes "Can't say I didn't enjoy it while it lasted, though."

The older man blushed darkly, thinking back to how  _beastly_ his actions had become in a surge of sudden hunger and overwhelming need for Dean's touch. He liked to think of himself as a mature adult with much self-control - and if Meg and Gabe's endless complaints about the non-existent stick wedged up his ass was enough to go by, he was inclined to trust his own judgement - but he couldn't deny the love-sick, teenage daze that crept up on him when Dean smiled or cursed or brushed past him, even with innocent intentions…

_He had it bad._

"How's about I whip us up a couple of pancakes...?" Dean suggested rather too enthusiastically for Castiel to believe that he really  _was_ OK with them stopping "Have ourselves a little midnight snack. What d'ya say, Cas?"

He furrowed his brow "No, Dean."

"Oh. You wanna just catch some z's, then? Or-"

"I want to continue." His blue eyes were dark and lidded as he watched a thousand different emotions flicker across Dean's face, finally settling on a guilty expression.

"Cas, buddy…"

Another apology or self-pity speech was sure to be expected and it angered Castiel, more than he'd like to admit. Everything was so black and white with Dean Winchester; he was either happy-go-lucky - cracking mindless jokes and flashing that ridiculously adorable grin of his -  _or_ , he was blinded with white hot rage and always,  _always_ pointing the finger at himself. Castiel wanted to see a more balanced side to the brunette- one where he could laugh or cry without feeling embarrassed or remorseful. He knew, of course, that there was only one way to deal with someone as stubborn as that.

He'd have to take control.

With perhaps  _too_ much fortitude, he snatched the bottle - lube, as Dean had called it - and dunked two fingers into the cool liquid. As he lay back onto the sheets, he could see the startled look Dean was giving him and it only made him  _more_  determined. One digit circled his hole - slowly and tentatively pushing in despite the walls clenching against the intrusion - and the familiar burning sensation returned. Thankfully, it was a mild version and Castiel found that if he touched his quickly-softening cock at the same time, the pain numbed ever-so-slightly.

Just as he felt like he was ready for a second finger, a hand touched his own gently and he looked up to see warm, green eyes blinking down at him.

"Let me." Dean whispered- his voice scratchy with apprehension.

Castiel nodded meekly and allowed Dean to slick up once again. A finger pressed against his entrance - sliding in far with more ease that before - and Castiel instantly observed that Dean's fingers were thicker and warmer than his own.

"D-Dean…"

"Shh… I got you…"

A second followed suit, which soon turned into three, and Castiel was relieved to find the pain subside and slowly evolve into something quite pleasurable. Dean pumped his digits in and out cautiously, crooking the fingers now and again to see how Castiel would react. At first, it was a uncomfortable sensation - the feeling of being stretched and violated below - but when the fingers brushed against a certain spot, he couldn't keep back his cries of approval.

"W-What was that, Dean?"

The younger man practically squealed with delight "I think I just found your special button, Cas."

His vision faltered as pleasure gushed through his body once more, his body arching brazenly at the touch. Soon he was sweating and trembling as Dean dared to push further and faster; he whimpered his lover's name like a virgin, drawing his nails down Dean's back and begging to be filled.

"I'm ready, Dean! P-Please…"

"You sure?"

He suddenly became impatient, barking the orders in a gravelly voice  _"Just fuck me, Dean!"_

That was all it took.

Dean's face twitched into a nervous grin as he lubricated his dick generously, eyes raking across Castiel's naked body hungrily as he did so. A part of him still felt guilty- he was supposed to be teaching Cas, acting like some kind of sex mentor, and yet that had all flown out the window when the guy had offered himself on a plate. So, maybe - providing that things went well - he'd get the opportunity to help better Castiel's skills on top in the future.

 _The future_.

Fuck, there was nothing more appealing than the concept of waking up to raven hair and piercing blue eyes every morning.

But he couldn't stop his mind from drifting off to some place nasty. There were things that were bound to get in their way and he knew  _exactly_ what they were. He wasn't a good man- what he was  _doing_ was potentially cruel and he realized that snatching away Castiel's virginity (as far as his newfound homosexuality was concerned) was a really shitty thing to do.

His eyes wandered over to the hallway, to the room he hadn't dared show Castiel yet. The secrets, the lies, the  _deceit…_ all kept contained behind one door.

"Dean?"

He was snapped back into reality - what was really important right now - and forced to return his attention to Castiel. His face was still dusted with a light blush, hair gorgeously mussed and eyes pleading for Dean to give him what he so desperately desired.

"I got ya…" He smiled warmly, cupping the older man's face and focussing his gaze entirely on those dark blue orbs now glistening with subtle concern "I've got you, Cas."

And then he was positioning himself, shifting into a comfortable stance with Castiel's legs wrapped around his waist and hands squeezing his hips. He pushed in agonizingly slow to allow Cas time to adjust to the intrusion- he couldn't help but wince for the poor guy who had his eyes screwed tightly shut, fighting back the urge to recoil once again.

When he felt his pelvis brush against Castiel's skin, he knew he'd gone far enough and glanced over at his partner. His heart throbbed at the shaking mess of a man laid before him, eyes still closed and breathes coming out ragged between gritted teeth.

"Cas-"

"Move, Dean." He interjected with sudden urgency, eyes opening gingerly "Please, move. I-I'm OK."

It felt too soon, even though he knew they'd been in this position for a good five minutes. The tight heat clenched around his member and he had to tighten his fists momentarily as he drew out to stop himself from coming straight away. Castiel whimpered slightly at the movement, but chewed his lip to supress any cries of protest his mind might encourage him to blurt out at any second.

Soon, Dean had pulled out and pushed back in (as per the required course of action in such situations) a handful of times. He let out a soft moan as Castiel wriggled beneath him, running his fingers over his bare flesh lovingly and checking to see if he was OK regularly. Dark hair fell into his eyes, which he pushed back with frustration almost instantly. Dean tried not to laugh at the response that was so very much  _Cas_ and focussed his attention on the fully erect cock bobbing against his stomach.

"Yes, Dean…" Castiel sighed as a calloused hand wrapped around his member "T-Touch me…"

Dean grunted as Castiel's words sent heat straight to his cock - hardening him even further, if that was physically possible - and he tried his best to keep the rhythm of his dick slamming into Castiel's body even whilst also caressing his throbbing member. He swiped a finger over the tip, gathering a bead of pre-cum to better lubricate his actions.

"Fuck, Cas…"

The first waves of pleasure washed over him- strangled moans of  _oh, yes- Cas, uh- oh, God- CAS!_ filling the air as his thrusts became more insistent. He jerked his hand up and down desperately to bring Castiel closer to the edge with him (because  _what_ would be better than coming simultaneously?) and buried his face into the crook of his lover's neck.

"D-Dean… I think I'm going to… I think I'm…  _ooh_ …"

A muffled cry occupied the room as white liquid painted their stomachs, Castiel's muscles twitching involuntary until he collapsed against the sheets. It was enough to topple Dean over the edge as he came with a cry of Castiel's name, pumping furiously up until the point he could scarcely breath and the sensitivity of his trembling cock became too much.

He pulled out reluctantly - shooting Castiel a small apologetic smile at his sharp whimper of discomfort - and scooched up to drape himself over the older man's body. If Castiel heard the content little sigh he exhaled as their breathes fell into sync, he didn't seem to mind and/or comment on it.

"That was amazing." He chuckled after a moment's silence.

Castiel ran his fingers through the short, sandy brown locks nuzzling into his chest and smiled to himself "Yes, I must agree with you on that. It was-  _you_ were… quite incredible."

Dean could feel himself blushing like a school girl, but he honestly couldn't give a  _fuck_ "Woah, slow down there, Westley… I might just melt on the spot."

He didn't have to look at Castiel to know that he was frowning, probably tilting his head in confusion "Ah, forget it. Remind me to introduce you to the perfection that is  _The Princess Bride,_ one day."

Castiel grinned at the indirect vow that their relationship would extend beyond a couple of days snowed in together "OK, Dean."

In that one moment, everything else seemed to slip away. If Sam and Gabriel were to walk in right now and catch them in the act, then so be it. Neither one of them had anything to be ashamed of.


	8. Too soon to say goodbye

Morning light flooded the room like warm honey, bringing attention to every twitching muscle, blonde hair and stray freckle of Dean Winchester's face. His skin was dusted with the earthy glow cascading between the folds of the covers –  _like an angel_ – Castiel thought to himself.

He realized that watching people sleep was considered stalkerish and downright  _creepy_ \- but who could honestly blame him? Dean was just  _asking_  to be watched with those parted lips and fuzzy eyebrows drawn together deep in slumber. He looked so peaceful in sleep, as if he were lost in a really good dream.  _Good_ \- Castiel smiled -  _H_ _e deserves a break._

Of course, he still didn't know the reasoning behind Dean's natural defensiveness or general ferocity. There were walls built so high after years of shutting people out that Castiel would have to approach at some point, presuming that their relationship was in for the long run.  _God, he hoped it was._ He didn't know when the realization had finally kicked in (though he could guess it was somewhere around the time that he was having best orgasm of his life), but now it was crystal clear- he was falling for Dean.

_And didn't it feel amazing…_

He hesitated for a moment – not quite sure where their boundaries lay – before planting a gentle, loving kiss in the scruff of Dean's hair. Its natural spikes were slightly flattened by the pillow he had his face buried in, but it was still close to flawless. Castiel grimaced as he ran a hand through his own bird nest- it felt matted and dry from lack of nourishment and he considered taking a quick shower before Dean woke up.  _Is that OK? –_ He wondered –  _Have we got to the point where using each other's facilities without permission is acceptable?_

Finally, the less paranoid and self-conscious side of his brain won out and he stumbled to the bathroom in the nude, grabbing a towel from the airing cupboard as he went. He gave Dean one last smile before closing the door as quietly as he could and – in the comfort of his own company – allowed himself a shaky breath and a moment's thought to revise the previous night's events.

This bathroom was considerably larger than the one Castiel had flooded on the first day; it felt more personal and well-suited to who Dean really was. The walls were a rich, peachy colour that instantly brightened the room and said- 'Please, make yourself at home whilst taking a shit on this  _lovely_ toilet!'. Castiel chuckled at the crude thoughts swarming his brain, wondering when exactly he'd turned into such an ogre, and slung the towel over his shoulder as he went about adjusting the water to a suitable temperature before stepping in.

His eyes flickered over the room once more – hand testing the water gushing from the showerhead absentmindedly – when he suddenly noticed the fluffy pink mat wrapped around the base of the toilet. It certainly clashed with the neutral tones of the bathroom and stuck out like a sore thumb, bringing about many questions, the main one being-  _why on earth does Dean have a pink pedestal mat?_

Castiel grinned and shrugged it off, putting it down as being another of Dean's quirks and possibly a hint towards a softer side of the brunette.

When the water was running at a lukewarm temperature (because the heat of the bedroom had been sweltering despite the frosty weather and Castiel sure wasn't in the mood for a hot rinse), he placed the towel in the sink positioned in reaching distance of the shower and stepped under the downpour. The feeling of the just-right water rolling over his skin and dampening his hair forced a content little sigh out of Castiel as he tipped his head back to wash the sleep out of his crusty eyes. Dean had a basic range of cheap soaps lined up against the white rack hooked on the tiled wall- he settled on a rosy coloured bar that faintly smelled of cranberries, mainly because it appeared to be the most used and the thought of smelling like Dean was  _more_ than appealing.

He built up lather in his hair, massaging the scalp with an appreciative moan and making sure to rinse away the suds before they stung his eyes. Soon – enclosed in the bath-shower combo by the white curtain to his right – the steam of the quickly-warming water began to make him itch. He guessed that Dean's water was off, as the shower switched from cool to scorching every five minutes and branded him with red-raw stripes of skin going down his back.

The stream came to a steady halt as he flicked the switch and Castiel couldn't help but sigh with relief when the cold of the bathroom greeted him upon stepping out of the shower. He swiped a hand across the mirror to inspect his reflection, frowning at the dark stubble and red-rimmed eyes that greeted him.

"I look terrible…" He muttered to himself dismally.

There was a slight moment of panic when he could only find one toothbrush, but then quickly remembered Dean saying that if he needed to brush his teeth, spares could be found in the other bathroom. He didn't exactly like the idea of abandoning the welcoming atmosphere of Dean's en-suite and revisiting the cold, blue room he'd retreated to that previous morning, but he sure as heck wasn't going to kiss the man he was falling for with rancid morning breath!

He slipped into a pair of baggy pyjama bottoms and faded grey t-shirt – and no, he  _wasn't_ grinning over the fact that he was wearing Dean's clothes – before slinking past the still-sleeping body sprawled out across the Queen-size mattress. Again, his mind wondered briefly why Dean had chosen such a large bed, but he decided that it was probably the cause of one his ex's. He couldn't ignore the jealously tightening his throat at the thought of Dean being with anyone else, but he could hardly talk – he'd had Hannah, after all.

It was good to see that the toilet was still working; as much as he'd enjoyed the view of Dean bent over with the plunger, he'd be appalled if they had to spend their second day together hands-deep in toilet water. He quickly located a flimsy yellow toothbrush in the cabinet (which, judging by the weak bristles and cheap plastic, had been bought in a pack of ten economy brushes) and did his best to polish those pearly-whites to, well… pearly-whites. He then scrubbed a hand over his morning-scruff, tapping a finger on his chin, before deciding against a quick shave.

_Facial hair was sexy, right?_

He was slightly disappointed that Dean was still sleeping – he wanted to run his hand through his hair and pepper kisses over his collarbone and whisper the L-word repeatedly in his ear – but he took the privacy as an opportunity to explore the place, instead.

Dean liked to cook- or more likely, he just liked food in general. The kitchen was stocked full of various utensils that Castiel had never heard of let alone  _used_ before and the pantry contained everything from flour to soup to Marmite. It was undeniably cosy, with wooden drawers and a central island for chopping and rinsing fruit and veg. Castiel admired how Dean was able to make a home out of such a small apartment- his and Meg's dingy little flat paled in comparison.  _What would it be like, living here with Dean? –_ Castiel pondered –  _To be able to call this place 'home'. Mine and Dean's home…_ The thought made him shiver with delight and he knew that he was thinking way too far ahead, but he couldn't stop.

He peered inside a closet near the front door, where Dean appeared to keep his shoes and jackets etc. Castiel grinned at on the onslaught of leather, flannel and worn-out boots. Dean was like a lumberjack- a loveable and blissfully gorgeous lumberjack.

The apartment's interior was eerily basic, Castiel couldn't help but noticed. It was as if someone had stripped all of the personal touches and decorated it to the likings of some cheesy catalogue get-up. Sure, the kitchen was lovely and Dean's bedroom was nice enough, but there was just something  _missing_ from it all… The lack of photos was disturbing, for one thing- the only proof that Dean actually had a family was the small collection of crinkled photographs lined up along the mantelpiece, but even then, there was a distinct gap in the assortment. A small rectangle of wallpaper contrasted against the darker wall around it where a frame had most definitely been removed quite recently. Something about that made Castiel feel slightly uncomfortable, but he knew that he was just snooping around and jumping to conclusions- Dean would explain when he woke up.

He was suddenly drawn to a room he hadn't been in yet. The door was white, as opposed to all the others made from rich mahogany, and light seemed to spill out unnaturally from the gap beneath it, as if something was beckoning Castiel to open it and look inside. A voice in the back of his head screamed against it –  _Perhaps he hasn't shown you this room for a reason! –_ but curiosity had always been his downfall and, before he knew it, he was stepping inside the mystery room.

At first, he didn't quite know what to make of it; the walls, unlike the rest of the apartment, were plastered in photos and calendars and post-it-notes, giving the room a sense of character. Centred on the feature wall, where the paper was decorated with pink patterns, was a circular mirror. Castiel frowned at the numerous lip stick stains dotted around the top left corner and how the desk beneath it was strewn with various makeup items he knew would leave Meg gagging. Even the air smelt fruity, fresh, feminine…

He glanced around the rest of the room, which he now realized was small and square- the perfect size for a walk-in wardrobe. There were dresses and skirts and gowns scattered amongst the place, with several racks containing brushes and various jewellery. Castiel could feel a lump in his throat, a painful throb threatening to worm itself into his head, and his mind was racing at a mile a minute.

_Why does Dean have a walk-in-wardrobe? Why does he have make-up and headbands and stockings? Why does he have a fucking pink pedestal mat? What was in the ominous photo frame that Dean felt he needed to hide away?_

Castiel felt sick. Question whirled around his brain, making him dizzy and confused, and he just didn't know what to think. He stumbled backwards as his hand found a crinkled piece of paper on the desk. The words were neat and curly, but teetered off at the end as if the writer was in a hurry for something. He exhaled slowly- the message read:

_Dean,_

_You know as well as I do that this isn't working anymore. By the time you've read this letter, I should be gone. I've met someone and they're good for me- the work-thing I told you about wasn't a lie, but I will be meeting up with him there._

_Just in case you're wondering, I really did love you and probably always will. But you need something different and we both know what that is. The spark has been gone for just too long._

_I'm going to leave this for you when I come back. As soon as I'm home, I'm packing my bags and saying goodbye to the place. It would just be too hard to see you. I hope you understand and that you find someone right for you, like I have._

_Please forgive me x_

He balled the note in his sweaty palms and ran a shaky hand through his hair, trying to contemplate what he should do next. Dean had a girlfriend –  _ex-_ girlfriend – that he hadn't told Castiel about. Yeah, it was a shitty lie and he should have said something earlier, but it's not like Dean wasn't single, was it? Who knew how long they'd been separated… maybe Dean was still trying to get over it, like  _he_  was still getting over Hannah. Dean preferred men- that's what he'd said earlier.

Still, Castiel found himself pacing towards the bedroom, fury slowly building up a storm inside his chest, and smacking the letter against Dean's back. The younger man leapt at the sudden wake-up call and darted his stupid green eyes around the room in panic until they finally settled on Castiel. He relaxed noticeably, which only pissed him off further.

"Hey, Cas…" Dean smiled lazily "Where's the fire?"

 _Enough of his stupid games_ – Castiel growled –  _I want some fucking answers._

"What is this?"

Dean furrowed his brow, following Castiel's gaze slowly as if he were still half asleep. If he had been, he was suddenly woken up as his mind registered the note being shoved in his face.

"I-I… I can explain-"

"Yes," Castiel scoffed "I think that would be best. I don't understand  _what_ this means but can tell you that I'm  _this_ close to kicking the door down myself and never looking back."

There was a moment's silence before Dean took the letter from Castiel's hands hesitantly and cleared his throat "Last week, my girlfriend asked me to get something from her purse. I found this note." He fidgeted before continuing "She's away on business right now. I wasn't supposed to find it until she came back…"

Castiel staggered backwards, leaning his weight against the first hard thing he could find.  _Dean wasn't single. He still had a girlfriend._

"She's probably banging that ass-clown as we speak!" His voice shook with anger "I… I  _needed_ something to rub in her face. I wanted her to think that she wasn't the only one breaking hearts. So, I went online and found the hottest guy I could…" He smiled a little, but Castiel only returned with a fiery glare "I-I'm sorry, Cas. Please-"

"What's her name?" He was surprised by how small his voice was- he hated it.

Dean hesitated "Cassie… C-Cassie Robinson."

 _"Fuck!"_ He'd suddenly crossed the room in two long strides "So, what? That way y-you couldn't make a slip-up? Because you'd be crying out the same goddamn name when you came inside of me?  _When you practically took my virginity?!_ "

Dean faltered, his eyes wide and pleading "No, Cas-  _fuck_ , no! I-"

"You dick…  _You fucking_ dick _!_ "

He stormed out the room, tearing the grey t-shirt from off his skin as if it were infected and swapping it for the still-soggy shirt he'd worn the day before. He found his trousers and jacket draped over the radiator and shoved them under his arm as he searched for his trenchcoat impatiently.

"Hanging from the couch," Dean spoke from the doorway sheepishly "Cas, please. Don't do this… I want  _you!_ I swear to god, I do. So, so much… Please-"

"Shut up, Dean." He turned on his heels to meet the freckled face he'd fallen for in just two days, suddenly feeling like an idiot "Just…  _shut_ up. I can't do this."

He dropped his head and fled the room before Dean could oppose any further- muttering a quick "And I'm keeping the PJs, too" as he went. The metal stairs were slippy beneath his feet as he shuffled towards the exit; he had to balance himself against the railing several times to save himself from injury and regain his haggard breath. When the door finally budged with enough encouragement, Castiel could have squealed with relief. Instead, he stumbled blindly into the snow, hugging his trenchcoat around his now-shivering body and tried to distance himself from the building as quickly as possible.

As soon as he rounded a corner, the tears stinging the backs of eyes began to fall. He collapsed against the nearest post and rammed the heels of his hands into eyes to stifle the cries, though he knew it was no use. He was soon sat in the snow, choking on loud, ugly sobs that he feared would last forever.

* * *

Dean just stood there like an idiot, silently coming to terms with what had just happened. It was a good five minutes later until he realized that he hadn't got Cas' number or any means of contacting him other than Guys in Gear. com (and he was sure that Cas would remove his profile as soon as possible). He'd ran out into the snow – skidding on a particularly icy patch and falling face-first in the road – to look for him, but it was too late.

When he trudged back inside, his apartment no longer felt like home. He longed for a mop of raven hair and cerulean orbs to meet him at the door, to pull him into a tight embrace and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. The thought of not being able to brush his hand over the ridges of his spine as he slept, or nibble the corner of his lip cheekily just because he could, or even listen to him ramble on about honey bees and the fascinating route of flowers, made him feel utterly miserable.

_He wanted his Cas back._

Just as he was contemplating searching the streets again, the lock on the door shuffled and his heart literally stopped in his chest. He was up and rushing towards it before he had time to doubt that it could be anyone  _but_ Cas (even though he knew he didn't have a key). The person who stepped through was most definitely  _not_ Castiel.

"Cassie…" He breathed, taken aback "I thought you were gone 'til next week."

She bustled her way past Dean, planting a quick peck on his cheek instinctively and gave an exasperated sigh "A couple of the cars we were hoping to sell were a no-show, would you believe it." There was a  _clunk_ as she placed her bags on the kitchen counter and turned to face him "Hopefully, with any luck, they're on their way as we speak. I figured I should stop by and pick up some extra stuff considering my trip's being extended."

She gave her head a violet shake to emphasise her frustration – dark ringlets flying about her face – but Dean could see the twinkle in her eyes. If she wasn't making the whole ordeal up, she sure as hell  _wasn't_ pissed at the idea of getting to spend an extra couple days with lover boy.

"So," Cassie clapped her hands together, figuring that Dean wasn't going to answer anytime soon "What did I miss?"

He shrugged "Uh… nothing much."

 _What a fucking coward_ – He thought bitterly to himself –  _Tell her the truth, you jackass._

She frowned a little, but let it slip. Her dark skin was practically glowing from the cold, cheeks slightly tinged with a light blush, and Dean knew that he should be offering her a drink or something like any  _loving_ boyfriend would. But he just couldn't bring himself to act normal around her, not now that he knew what her real intentions were.

"Babe, I-" He scowled at the pet-name, suddenly realising how wrong it sounded in reference to his soon-to-be ex " _Cassie…_ We need to talk."

 _Now_  he had her full intention- she didn't look particularly worried, just confused and slightly curious. She furrowed her brow and slunk into the nearest chair, nodding for Dean to continue.

_OK… this is it._

He went to open his mouth, but was interrupted by Cassie's incredulous tone "Have you slept with someone else?!"

He gawped at her for a moment – wondering how long she'd been able to read minds – until he realized that she was looking from the two mugs on the side to the tousled bedsheets with wide eyes.  _Of course, he hadn't had time to clean up after Castiel left and he hadn't been expecting Cassie home so soon._

"Uh-"

"Oh my god!" Hands flew to her mouth and Dean followed her gaze to the note in his hand "Dean, I… I'm so sorry…"

He tilted his head – because, sure, he was picking up habits from Cas pretty quick – and frowned "Why are you  _sorry_ , exactly?"

She pouted "Th-The note, I…"

"Oh, you're sorry I found it too soon? Sorry you didn't have time to slip away before I realized you were fucking some other dude?"

Her expression quickly flickered to rage "Don't be such a hypocrite, Dean! I see  _you've_ been making the most out of my time away."

"Yeah, to shove it in your face!" He fired back "I wanted you to know that if it's OK for  _you_ to be a cheating hoe, then it's perfectly OK for me, too!"

"Oh, wow… really  _mature,_ Dean. I'm sure you feel  _so_ proud for coming up with  _that_ idea!"

He sneered "Don't give me that crap, Cassie. You know full well that you're the one in the wrong here!"

A coil of hair fell across her face, but she refused to brush it away "We haven't been a real couple in so long, Dean! I  _needed_ something more than this!" She gestured around the room, which Dean couldn't help but take some offense in.

Nonetheless, the anger seemed to subside a little as he stared into those chocolate-brown orbs. They'd been trying their best to keep this relationship going for so long – since  _High School,_ in fact – but he'd be kidding himself if he said it was doing them any good. They hadn't been intimate in weeks, stumbled their way through small talk whenever they were alone and simply resolved to brief pecks and chaste kisses as ways of showing affection. He still cared about her and yeah, she was  _still_ hot, but he certainly didn't feel the same warm, gooey feeling in the pit of his stomach around her as he did with Cas. Actually, he didn't think he'd  _ever_ felt as strongly for someone as he did for Castiel.

"I just wish we'd talked more." He admitted, shoulders slumped.

Her hard gaze seemed to soften at this "Yeah, I know, baby… me too." She squeezed his shoulder tenderly "But you know we've had our run. I'm a realist- I don't see much hope for us."

Their fingers entwined one last time as he gave her a sheepish smile "I wanna see you happy."

She sighed gently "I  _am_ happy, Dean. I know you don't want to hear it, but I've got a really great guy… we haven't be together long, it's not like I've been 'slutting around' for months."

"I know." He hesitated, bringing back his hands and staring at the ground "I've met someone, too."

The tension lifted from the room and it felt more like old friends chatting, not long-time partners saying goodbye "Who? The girl responsible for this mess?" She nodded towards the mugs and sheets once more, but her eyes were smiling.

He glanced up apprehensively, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt vaguely- he'd thrown the first thing he'd found on when he'd went to race after Cas in the snow and this shirt just so happened to have holes in the sleeves and coffee stains on the collar.

"Oh," She caught his eye " _Oh…_ "

"Yeah."

A smile ghosted her lips "I always knew you'd find comfort in the arms of a man."

He rolled his eyes "Shut up, alright?"

"Seriously, though, Dean." She grabbed his wrists lightly "If you like him, don't let him go. We deserve this- we  _deserve_ to be happy. Even if it's not together."

He realized then and there that what he'd miss most about Cassie Robinson was her sincerity- how every word was somehow reflected in her wide, brown eyes "Thank you, Cassie. I mean that…  _Thank you._ "

She gave him a warm smile and reluctant hug before retreating to their –  _his –_ room once more. And then she was gone. Dean realized that she'd left behind most of her belongings, but he somehow felt that that was the last time he'd see her face- and he didn't mind. She'd given him the best gift there was-  _hope_. Hope that even the most broken relationships can be mended and that saying sorry didn't have to be a bad thing.

He knew then more than ever that he was going to get Castiel back, whatever it took. Because he was in love with the nerdy little dude and if he was stupid enough to let something like that slip between his fingers, he'd be cursing himself until the day he died.


	9. New Year's Eve

"So, you  _slept_  with green-eyes, then  _forgot_ the whole shebang… and, uh… the next morning, you were  _snowed in_ for a day and a half and in the process of busting toilets and breaking into people's apartments, you fell in love with the guy- correct?"

Meg had literally pounced on him as soon as he'd gotten home; apparently, it was her duty as a best friend to hear  _all_  of the nasty details. So here they were – Castiel cornered on the couch with Meg's eyes on him at all times – discussing his lousy situation and broken heart to match.

He cleared his throat to speak, but settled on a mere nod instead.

Her shoulders slumped back as her hardened gaze softened. If he knew Meg (and after a fair few years of putting up with her, he was sure that he  _did_ ), then he was almost positive that she was silently contemplating something. Dark eyes scrunched in concentration as her thin lips formed a straight line and he  _knew_ that he was in for one of her ridiculous lectures.

"Well,"  _Here it goes, here it goes, here it goes…_ "I gotta say, Clarence- I'm stumped!"

He whipped his head around, fixing her with an incredulous stare "W-What?"

She simply shrugged in response to his wide eyes and open mouth "Look- a part of me wants to royally  _kick his ass_. But…" Her body seemed to stiffen momentarily, as if she were hesitant to finish her sentence "I also gotta hand it to the guy! Sounds to me like he's brought a little  _adventure_ into your life. And, c'mon, we both know that's astounding.  _Castiel Novak- breaking 'n' entering!"_ She barked out a laugh.

"I was horrified by Dean's actions! I'll have you know I gave him the cold shoulder afterwards."

"Oooh, scary…" She grinned "You really know how to make a man's  _nethers quiver_ , don't cha, Clarence?"

He hardly knew how to respond to that, so instead, he folded his arms over his chest defensively and let out a long, exasperated sigh. Maybe it was all fun and games to her, but to  _him,_ a light had just gone out. The future no longer seemed vast and wonderful, but long and bleak like a dimming tunnel going on and on… Dean Winchester had felt like something good – the start of new chapter in his life – and although that may have been true, it definitely wasn't shaping out to be the kind of story Castiel had been hoping for.

"Hey, look… don't mope about." A hand was suddenly resting on his knee- he knew it was supposed to be of comfort, but that kind of affection just didn't suit Meg kindly. He went along with it all the same, offering a small smile as well as his attention in return for the effort "How about we go out, tonight?"

 _How about let's_ not– He thought darkly to himself –  _How about I avoid alcohol for the remainder of my miserable existence and never allow myself a moment's weakness_ ever  _again?_

Before he had time to voice his objections, a hand was being slammed into his face as if to shove the protestations back inside "Ah, don't even  _think_  about saying no! You didn't get the chance to party that night Gabe abandoned you. I'm sure he's up for another round, though. I'll call him, yeah?"

Castiel felt deflated- his best friend was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. She was so eager to help numb the pain (which he appreciated more than he'd let on), but this tortured soul of his was begging for rest. He wanted to slip under the covers and sleep through the remainder of the week, to forget all about freckles and green eyes and leather jackets. But, after seeing Meg – who was usually so nonchalant in such situations – radiating enthusiasm, he couldn't bring himself to let her down.

"Uh… a-alright, OK… yes." He croaked.

The devilish wink of triumph he received was enough to leave him groaning with regret.

* * *

Dean knew too-well how ridiculous he sounded, but  _did_ he care? Fuck, no.

 _"I-I'm not quite sure I understand the request, sir?"_  A small voice stuttered on the other end of the phone- it sounded uncomfortable.

"Uh, well… you see, the thing is…" He ran a hand over his face, not believing how much of a dork he was being right now "I kinda met this guy on your site a couple of days ago and I, uh… I didn't quite catch his number, you know? B-But, I need to talk to him, urgently, so I was wondering if you could maybe give me his address, or-"

_"Sir, we can't give out personal information to anyone but the police, I'm sure you understand."_

"Yeah, I get that, but…"

_The police._

The voice cleared its throat insistently  _"Sir?"_

"Oh, yes! Sorry… um, excuse me. Thank you for your help and uh, goodnight!"

He flung the phone aside, casually knocking over a lamp in the process. He ignored the smash of glass and tapped his chin thoughtfully- a  _really_ messed up plan was slowly forming in his brain and he couldn't help but grin at his own evil mind.

_Yes- the police would work nicely._

* * *

So, maybe having someone stamp your heart to the ground was enough to take your mind off the most blaringly obvious of things for a while. In Castiel's case, it was the fact that perhaps the most pointless and poorly-excused holidays of the year (besides Valentine's Day, of course) was just around the corner. It send a sickening chill down his spine, making him want to shy away from the world for an entire 24 hours- no, scrap that…  _48 hours_ , if you wanted to avoid the hard-core partiers who seemed to hang around for far longer than necessary, funnelling dangerous amounts of alcohol down their throats and littering the streets with silly string and crushed beer cans.

It just so happened that New Year's Eve – for reasons unbeknownst to Castiel – was Gabriel's  _favourite_ festivity.

Meg had called his elder brother immediately after their earlier conversation and he had heard the squeal of delight clear as day. It was enough to make him wince as Meg thrust the phone away from her ear, cursing under her breath and scowling daggers down the line. There'd been the distinctive rustle of Gabriel shifting about in his apartment as the phone was put on loudspeaker, followed by his over-ecstatic voice listing off the essentials –  _very, very, very important items he and Meg just had to go and buy ASAP –_ and then something that froze Castiel in place and knocked the wind out of him.

"Gabriel…" He struggled to keep his voice level "Who is that you're talking to?"

Silence.

_"Gabe-"_

"OK, OK… calm down, little bro. I've just got a, uh, a friend over, is all!"

Usually, that would be enough to end the conversation and Castiel would shrug it off as being yet another unfortunate one-night-standee that his brother had somehow coaxed into bed after a night on the town. But,  _nothing_ about this was  _usual_ , especially when the harsh reality that it was  _more_ than likely – based off the general clues and less-than-subtle hints that Castiel had gathered during his stay with Dean – that Gabriel had picked up none other than Sam Winchester himself raked over his entire body, leaving him breathless.

Gabriel remained uncharacteristically quiet on the other end of the phone.

"Did you sleep with him again?"

"Aha, who-"

"Don't you dare lie to me, Gabriel! I'm serious." He growled.

Meg looked somewhere between uncomfortable and amused as she stood far off in the corner, contemplating whether or not leaving the room was the best option. Castiel knew she wouldn't shift, though- she was naturally curious (or  _nosey,_ more like) and could never resist a little drama.

"OK, Cassie- you still with me? OK… alright, yeah. I hear your pain, brother, I really do- Sammy, here told me all about your little situation with Dean-o. The poor guy's been texting him all morning,  _pining_ for you, by the sounds of it. It's  _wildly_ ironic, don'tcha think? I mean, you with the Ken-doll, me with the hunk- is that kismet or  _what?!_ "

Oh, he was definitely going to strangle his brother when he got the chance…

His voice was surprisingly steady the next time he dared to speak, however "Gabriel, if you are having sex with Sam Winchester, then so be it. But, if you expect me to attend the same party as someone related to the man who just broke my heart – and could quite easily  _bring him along_ – then you are most  _definitely_ mistaken."

"Ah, c'mon, Cassie-"

"No, Gabriel. I  _mean_ it." He snapped.

A growl of taut frustration rustled down the line for a brief moment, subsiding to a mere groan of disappointment almost instantly. He knew deep down that he was overacting and quite possibly meddling with Gabriel's love life –  _who knows, maybe he even_ likes  _this_ _Sam Winchester?_ – but now that he'd made his bed, he couldn't muster the energy to backtrack.

If Gabriel was so frickin' loved up –  _yeah, good for him, sure…_ – then Castiel was confident that he wouldn't give up so easily in wooing the younger Winchester. And, OK, if things escalated eventually to the point where he was forced to make small, polite conversation with Dean because their brothers just so happened to be planning a future together, then he'd be as supportive as possible and just go along with it… for Gabriel's sake.

"Woah, woah, Cassie… didn't mean to ruffle your feathers, or anything!" He could hear the smile in his voice "I'll just nip outta here in time to suck his face off when the clock strikes midnight!"

That was an image he so  _did not_ want plaguing his mind right now, but he couldn't be bothered to come up with a biting retort. Keeping up with Gabriel in a battle of wits was like swimming against the tide- it was long and tiring and constant, only promising freedom if you decided to hold your hands up and surrender. So, now he was doggy-paddling in the depths of his brother's smug victory and  _this close_ to drowning all together.

He chewed the inside of his cheek and rolled his shoulders (a method he'd found worked well when trying to communicate with Gabriel without losing your mind) "You're free to do as you wish, Gabriel. But please spare me the details or your sordid affairs…"

"Hey!" His brother snapped suddenly "Sam's not- he isn't… it's not like that, alright?"

Oh, OK.

Maybe Gabriel was falling in love with the younger Winchester- so what? Did Castiel give a rat's ass that their relationship might continue into the foreseeable future?  _No._ And was he happy for his brother?  _Yes._

"My apologises."

A whistle crackled down the line "Yeah, yeah… just kick your buns into gear and go find me the wackiest party hats imaginable! We're going for something that screams 'I'm an inarticulate twat-head who's just here for the cheap booze and easy sex!'"

Castiel almost,  _almost_ came back with a snarky comment, as per the usual routine, but the line cut off before he had a chance. It left him feeling empty, unsatisfied and  _shamefully_ jealous of what his brother and Sam  _fucking_ Winchester were getting up to.

_Probably giggling under the covers, snuggling into each other's warmth, planning their futures together… You know, standard-relationship stuff._

Meg grinned wolfishly from the doorway "What was that about?"

"Don't try and pretend you weren't listening in, Meg. Why did you put in on speaker phone?"

He didn't really need to ask, but she gave him honest answer regardless "Because I'm a nosey bitch, that's why! Now, you heard the man- let's get our asses to the store before closing."

Castiel managed a small smile at that. No matter what Dean did, no matter how much it hurt, he'd always have his wonderful, confident brother and best friend to bounce off of.

Now, if only he shared their self-assurance.

* * *

After about a dozen texts, Sammy had just stopped replying. It kinda made sense and he didn't blame him for it-  _heck_ , if he was in bed with some hot chick and/or dude (he'd take what he could get) and Sam was bombarding him with self-pity, he'd probably ignore him, too.

Still didn't stop it hurting like a sonofabitch, though.

Honestly, he had no frickin' clue what to do with himself. Cassie was gone, probably for good, his brother was shacked up somewhere, Jo and Benny were just blatantly refusing his calls – a sure indication that the news of his latest fuck-up had gotten around quickly and his friends were just assholes – and Bobby wasn't the kinda guy you turned to for relationship advice.

A small voice in the back of his mind was pining for Cas- for his shock of dark hair tickling his nose, or his velvety-blue eyes observing him from the foot of the bed, or his gravelly voice breathing down his ear… but then he had to remind himself that,  _no_ , he couldn't turn to Cas for help because  _this whole goddamn situation was about him._ He should have called it the moment his knees did that nervous, girly buckle-thing when he showed up drunk at his apartment. When your legs turn to jelly on the first encounter, even when the person is reeking of booze and tripping over stuff, you know you're gonna get it bad. And yeah, he had it bad alright.

 _Cas, I want to get married and adopt babies and eat picnics and grow old with you_ kinda bad.

But, all was good! Everything was going to be just fine… and  _why?_ Because Dean's plan was downright awesome, that's why. After much deliberation, he'd decided that Castiel probably wouldn't be  _that_ pissed at him- not after he wooed him with his seductively charming skills, at least.

That's why he was currently stepping over broken glass and trying to make as little noise as possible in the Turner's apartment.  _Yet again._

It's not like he was comfortable with what he was doing – it made him feel like shit – but it was the best plan he had and pretty much a sure way to see Cas again, even if it was for just a fleeting moment. He knew that this whole mess was  _his_ fault, like always, and  _damn_ , there goes the self-hatred coursing through his veins get again...

_And what an ugly, shitty feeling it was- like black gunk weighing down his stomach._

He shook it off and continued on his quest. Jesse's room was shrouded in darkness and he didn't want to risk leaving the tiniest smidgen of DNA lying around by flicking a light switch or stumbling about the place too much. He damn-near  _despised_ those procedural cop shows, but they didn't half educate you on the dos and don'ts of committing a crime. Everyone knows that tiny hairs and fingerprints always let down the most dexterous of felons.

What he needed to do was plant some evidence-  _anything_ to back up his accusations to the police. He had a handful of loose hairs he'd found clinging to the comb Castiel had used the morning before and even a sock which he was more than positive belonged to Cas (though if it didn't, he would have royally stuck his foot in it). But nothing could have prepared him for what he found already sitting on Jesse's desk, like a blessing sent down from heaven.

Castiel's tie – a dorky, bog-standard navy blue tie with his name stitched into the label – just waiting for him. And if that wasn't a sign that God was working in his favour, then  _what_ was?

* * *

OK, things were starting to pick up. Three days had passed since Castiel had last seen Dean Winchester's face and now he was feeling far more confident that that had been the  _very last_  time. The only other issue was regarding Sam and Gabriel's relationship, but even that wasn't enough to put a downer on his happy mood as he walked through the flat, swaying to some top 40 crap he didn't know the name of.

New Year's Eve was finally here and for the first time in years, Castiel was actually looking forward to it. He and Meg had agreed to play host for the evening, which explained the gold banners and party food scattered amongst the place. Of course, Gabriel hadn't entrusted them with  _all_ the responsibility – it was his favourite holiday, after all – and had insisted on picking up the refreshments and organizing a decent guest list. Knowing Gabriel, that probably meant a bunch of attractive and quite possibly  _successful_ people streaming in and out throughout the night. As a professional chef (something that still baffled Castiel considering his brother's usual lack of commitment), Gabriel got to meet some pretty important people from time to time, which almost guaranteed a very  _colourful_ horde of partiers.

Maybe Castiel would even find himself a nice, stable, non-cheating girlfriend – he was avoiding all men from here on out – and end up living the white picket fence life for once. He sincerely doubted that he could be so lucky, but Meg had reassured him that he  _was_  an attractive guy, if not a bit odd at times. All he had to do was rock the blue button-up and dark jeans he was wearing, drag his way through a bit of harmless flirting and keep himself from talking about honey bees- because, apparently  _they weren't interesting_.

 _Pfft… people have_ no  _taste in decent conversations._

He sat himself down on the corner couch and stretched his legs out, trying to forget how Dean's hands had felt on his thighs as they'd fallen against his sofa, breathing in one another and laughing the night away. The cold, sticky touch of leather didn't quite feel as comforting as the warm brush of Dean's worn out couch, he admitted to himself begrudgingly.

 _Stop it_ – He hissed, jumping to his feet and shuffling to the kitchen aimlessly –  _Don't let him get to you; he's not worth it._

Castiel made himself busy by opening up the plastic cups and lining half a dozen bottles of vodka across the kitchen counter. The frightening amounts of alcohol unsettled him slightly, making him wonder just  _how many_ people Gabriel intended on bringing over for this 'small gathering', but he shook it off with a smile, regardless.

Tonight was going to be good for him- it was going to be  _fun!_ He was going to drink and mingle and dance and be silly for once.  _Yeah..._  maybe the idea of nuzzling into Dean's shoulder as they danced to something ridiculously slow and tacky made him shudder.  _So what?_  Who cared if the mere  _thought_ of being able to throw his arms around the younger man and kiss each individual freckle on his face as the clock struck midnight made his knees feel weak? That was all in the past and New Year's Eve was most definitely about the  _future._

_Why are you even thinking about Dean, anyway? You've got a party to organise!_

He turned on his heels with a sigh, bag of chips in one hand, bowl of salted pretzels in the other. The coffee table in his and Meg's flat was thankfully broad and square enough to fit quite a variation of snacks on. Five plastic plates-worth of sausage rolls, a stack of paprika Pringles and two side dishes of pretzels and chips later, and the table was no longer visible beneath the mass of food; Castiel was feeling fairly satisfied with himself.

"Hey-o!"

Gabriel waltzed into the room as if he'd never left, dumping another bag of God-knows-what into Castiel's arms and waggling his eyebrows mischievously. A plastic crown sat haphazardly atop his head and around his neck hung some cheap 'Happy New Year' necklace that was obviously trying to pass itself off as being gold. Castiel spotted the metallic paint peeling from the chain links immediately and groaned.

"Gabriel… why must you insist on dressing like such a… a…"

"Like a pimp?" His brother interjected with a smirk "It's how I roll, Cassy!"

The famous excuse for everything.

Castiel placed the bag aside tentatively and turned on Gabriel "Well... where is he?"

"Who?"

"Sam, Gabriel. Where is Sam Winchester?"

Gabriel let out an exasperated huff "I  _told_ you, bro! I'm not gonna be the one to make things mega-awkward for you on New Year's Eve. Samsquatch will just have to wait for my ever-adorning presence until midnight."

Well, that just made him feel so much worse "Please, Gabriel… ignore my earlier protests. I was just on edge." He shuffled back to the kitchen to hide his shameful blush "My unhappiness shouldn't keep you from bettering your future."

At this, his brother laughed aloud and clapped a rather forceful hand against his back "Oh, Cassie. Can the crap and hand me a bottle of the good stuff, will ya?"

Castiel didn't have the foggiest as to what the 'good stuff' signified, so he ended up handing Gabriel a bottle of Vodka and watched his face crumple before shrugging it off and taking a generous swig.

"I'd appreciate it if you kept yourself sober until the other guests arrived, Gabriel."

"Ah, drink with me, Cassy!" Gabriel lifted the bottle ungracefully so that a sip's worth sloshed onto the counter "It takes you, what?- half of one of these to get you  _tipsy_?"

Castiel decided not to justify that with an answer and instead returned to moping about the house, pretending that everything was A-OK for both his and his brother's sake.

* * *

_"911, what is your emergency?"_

"Uh, hey! Yeah, I… I wanna report a robbery, please."

_"What is your location, sir?"_

"I'm at Carver Edlund Street- the twin apartments?"

_"Is the perpetrator still on the property?"_

"Oh, no! It's just, uh… some good friends of mine – the Turner's – their apartment looks pretty banged up. I couldn't tell you much more than that."

_"Do there appear to be any injured or distressed?"_

"No, not that I know of. Just a heck alotta broken glass."

_"We're sending officers over right away. Thank you for your call, sir."_

"Uh, yeah… yeah, thank you."

* * *

If there was a place called 'Completely and utterly out of Castiel Novak's comfort zone', then this would be it.

The crowds were relentless- moving in and out of the flat with new faces and even  _stranger_ outfits by the hour. At some point around nine o'clock, he'd lost Gabriel – not that his presence made much of a difference when all he seemed to be interested in was sexting with his new boyfriend – and Meg was currently chatting up a group of about five men, all eyeing her like she was a piece of meat. Castiel didn't worry though; Meg could hold her own stronger than any men he'd ever met before.

He resorted to throwing back another shot – his umpteenth drink of the night – and standing far back in the corner, ready to jump in if any of them got  _too_ handsy with his best friend.

The clock reminded him that it was only 11:01, meaning he had at least another hour of this torture, followed by how long it took for them to hoard out any stragglers and clean up for the night. He had a feeling that he wouldn't be getting much sleep until the early hours of the morning, not unless he was feeling particularly cruel and decided to saunter off to his parent's house for the night and leave Meg to deal with aftermath.

It was a nice idea, but one Castiel knew he'd never pursue.

_Damn, his stupid conscience._

All that was left to do was sigh, get on with it, and maybe try some harmless mingling if he was feeling particularly spontaneous. A quick glance around the room suggested that there weren't many people present that Castiel would feel comfortable talking to; he was standing awkwardly between a couple slammed up against the wall – making out like it were a sport – and a jittery stranger who, by the looks of his eyes, was most definitely on something illegal.

To make matters worse, Gabriel had forced him to wear a stupid pair of novelty wings to 'jazz-up his outfit'.

All they did was made him feel like a class-A clown.

A petite blonde showing off her curves in a tight, baby pink dress was smiling at him from a distance. She lifted her hand gingerly to twinkle her fingers in a kind of flirtatious wave that Castiel  _wished_ would make him feel something…  _anything!_

No- even before Dean and Hannah, he was never the kind of guy that would crack a charming smile and march his wave over, radiating confidence and style. But, maybe a few years ago –  _heck,_ maybe even when he was smitten with the woman he was sure would one day be his wife – he might have at least felt some butterflies in his stomach or heat rush to his face. She  _was_  an attractive young lady, after all.

But, now all he could offer was a half-hearted salute and return to his shots.

She got the hint and left him be, turning her attention to a man riding an invisible entity as he sang to the lyrics of something Castiel should probably know the name of.

He ran a clammy hand through his hair and groaned at the thoughts poking at him persistently –  _I bet if she had a pair of forest-green eyes,_ – It chorused –  _or_ _a sea of thousand freckles prettying her face, you'd be more interested_ – Oh, how he hated his own mind.

Castiel feared that if he didn't consume precarious amounts of alcohol quickly and find some dark corner to brood in, he wouldn't last the night.

His fretting was interrupted by a rather drunk, nameless man staggering towards him, holding out a bottle of beer to balance himself.

"Casteel Novak? Novak, right?" He hiccupped.

Castiel had half a mind to correct his mispronunciation, but just couldn't find the heart and/or energy to do so "Yes, that's me."

"Cops outside for you!"

He sighed "Honestly? It's New Year's Eve and they pick  _my_ flat to reprimand for noise complaints?"

"Nuh-uh… they're asking for  _you_ , specifically."

That made his heart still in his chest.

Before he could respond, the music came to a screeching halt and two police officers came barging in, red faces and sour scowls to match. Their very demeanour made Castiel want to shrink back and hide himself from whatever scolding he was sure to receive.

"Castiel Novak?" The slightly shorter officer stepped forward.

"Y-Yes, sir." His hands were shaking "I am Castiel Novak."

Everyone was watching the scene, for sure; it was the only interesting thing to turn to without the music blaring from the speakers. Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel caught a glimpse of Meg's face- she was wearing an expression crossed between concern and curiosity.

"Would you mind stepping out into the hallway for a moment, please?"

He knew that they weren't asking, but he was feeling slightly woozy after his booze-fest and seriously- he had no frickin' clue what they had on him, anyway. Castiel glanced around at the blur of faces surrounding him, swallowed down the lump in his throat and straightened his posture in what he hoped was a strong gesture.

"Why?"


	10. Conclusion

 

Castiel Novak did not –  _repeat –_ did  _not_ belong in a police station. Especially not when he was wearing his signature party clothes and a pair of flipping white, fluffy wings on his back like a common slut.

Nevertheless, there he was- hands cuffed and hair sticking flat to his forehead due to the accumulating beads of sweat gathering on his skin. Castiel Novak-  _arrested on suspicion of breaking and entering._ Of course, there was only  _one_ explanation for this whole situation and he didn't like it one bit. All hopes of shooing Dean Winchester and the events of those two days out of his mind were slowly diminishing by the hour.

He glanced around himself, surveying the small, boxed off room he'd been shoved into (rather brutishly, if he might add). The walls were white- plain as can be. A metal desk – clear, save the mesh tray of paper work on the side – served as the only piece of furniture in sight. Castiel was at least relieved that, unlike in the movies, there were no serial killers being dragged to their cells kicking and screaming around him. He was  _innocent_ , that much he was sure of. No one could touch him if he hadn't done anything wrong in the first place.

The self-reassurance quickly abandoned him when a tall, dark man made his way into the room, head ducked to read whatever he was finding so  _enticing_ in his hands.

"I'm officer Henriksen," He offered without looking up "And you are… Castiel Novak, I presume?"

Castiel swallowed back nothing but dry saliva and nodded.

Henriksen had a certain  _aura_ surrounding him that just screamed out 'bad cop'. The last thing he wanted to do was get on the wrong side of  _this guy_. All he had to do was plead his innocence without pissing him off, which wasn't always as easy as it sounded.

"Forgive me for sounding uncouth…" Castiel began tentatively, wary of tripping up a mine field.

When Henriksen's eyebrows simply rose to meet his buzz cut, Castiel felt comfortable with continuing.

"I was just wondering what my charges are officially?"

The officer chuckled to himself, elbows propped on the desk and eyes studying Castiel's face intently as if he was some  _fascinating_ creature being kept in a cage.

"We got a call a couple hours ago reporting a breaking and entering down in Carver Edlund."

Castiel didn't reply.

"It was anonymous; these calls usually are…"

Nothing- not a single peep.

Henriksen cracked a winning smile as if he'd just heard all he needed to hear in order to crack Castiel "You sure take your right to silence seriously, hey?"

So, maybe Castiel had learnt how to handle himself in such situations from various movies and cop shows he tended to zone out on. He knew the basics- everyone has the right to remain silence, though it may used against them in court, bla bla bla…

"You don't want to make this a big deal, OK?" Henriksen stated tiredly "If you make bail, that's it. We're not gonna hold you any longer than we have to."

Castiel perked up at this notion; the red-raw pain the cuffs were digging into his flesh – though non-existent and simply an aftereffect of Castiel's dramatics – eased immediately.

"How do I get out as soon as possible?"

Henriksen smiled softly; he seemed to be wearing layer upon layer of fatigue and by Castiel simply  _cooperating_ with him, as opposed to fighting back like a spoilt teenager, more and more of those layers were being peeled back. He was still a scary guy, but he was also just a man- tired after a long day's work, trying to make his job as painless as possible whilst simultaneously making the streets a safer place.

"We found this piece of evidence at the scene of the crime," He slapped a plastic wallet onto the desk "Seem familiar?"

Castiel grinned down at the tattered old tie as if he were finally meeting up with old friends for coffee after many, many years "That's where you got to."

It took him a moment to remember where he was, but Henriksen was patient.

"It has your name stitched into the label… and it's a freaky name, as well, if you don't mind me saying."

This made Castiel chuckle "Yes, it is. Not many people are familiar with Cassiel, the angel. It was he that I was named after."

"Religious background?"

"Something like that, I suppose."

Henriksen hummed approvingly before leaning in on his elbows once again "So,  _Castiel Novak…_ Did you do it?"

Castiel hesitated; technically, it was  _Dean_ who smashed the glass and broke into the apartment by force. He'd just stood there and watched, but he certainly hadn't  _agreed_ with his methods of retrieving the plunger.

_Dean deserves to be in these cuffs on New Year's Eve._

"Novak? Snap out of it!"

He jolted from his thoughts, eyeing the officer warily "How long will I get?"

"Well, from the looks of things, nothing was  _stolen_ and, if my guys aren't mistaken, you actually attempted a bit of a clean-up afterwards. Found all the broken glass in one neat, little corner."

Castiel sighed "Yes… I was mortified. I-I wanted to clear up the mess as best as I could."

This stuck a wrong chord- he could see by the darkening of Henriksen's face "Look, buddy. I love my job, I really do. But, it's  _New Year's Eve_ and I have to work, as usual." He shook his head lightly "If you're playing games with me, I won't be a happy bunny, Novak."

"Oh, no! I can assure you, no games are being played. After the… the  _incident,_ I genuinely did feel obligated to clear the floor, especially since a child lived in there."

Henriksen slouched back in his chair with a dissatisfied grunt "Ah, give me more. A simple confession can save us a whole lotta time, you know."

A confession was sensible and dignified; he could live with that.

"Yes," Castiel straightened his shoulders "I did break into the apartment. But, I wasn't alone."

The eyebrows were up again, tickling the start of his hairline.

"Not alone? You got a name?"

_OK… this is when you get back at him, Castiel. This is your payback._

_Let Dean rot behind bars for the night._

_No skin off your nose, after all._

_Punish him!_

"No." Castiel squeaked "N-No name, I apologise."

Henriksen narrowed his eyes as if he were going to poke and prod further, but decided against it.

"Well, we're keeping you in custody until you make bail."

"No one phone call?"

"Maybe later, Red." Henriksen scoffed.

All Castiel could do was shuffle after him towards his cell, all the while wondering what on earth he was wearing among his strictly  _blue_ outfit that could possibly supply such a nickname.

* * *

The great mound of snow – the very thing that had started it all – had now shrunk to a mere sludgy pile of melting ice. Dean almost felt sorry for the bastard as he scooped it across the pavement with his boot, cursing softly at the cold chill that seeped into his socks.

One moment, it was there – wreaking havoc and playing cupid, for Christ's sake – and now it was just gone. A job well done, perhaps,  _if_ Dean's plan carried out the way he hoped it to. He'd never bitch his way through a blizzard ever again if he ended this year with Castiel in his arms.

It was quite a trek to the station from here, but he was  _so not_ risking his Baby's life. The storm might have cleared, but the Impala didn't deserve to haul ass across an icy road.

He slipped his hands into his leather jacket, flexing his fingers to adjust to the fuzzy warmth his pockets provided. Beneath the soles of his shoes, the snow crunched and reminded him that-  _yes,_ it was still there. In fact, all around him snow hung from the buildings like white decorations, glowing an eerie gold in the soft flood of light pulsing from the streetlamps. His apartment might have eased up on the whole 'Christmassy-tempest', but the rest of the city had not been so lucky, it seemed. People were pitching in, shovelling snow and ice into the alleys from off the road and clearing the sidewalks for people to get through. It was nice to see everyone working together, despite the festivities.

Dean stooped to gather a generous amount of snow in his un-gloved hands – wincing at the biting cold sensation – and tossed it out of the way. It was a pitiful attempt compared to those busting their asses off around him, but Dean  _really_ had to be somewhere else.

He was Prince Charming, off to save his 'damsel in distress'.

Yeah, so maybe he was the one who put Cas in the tower in the first place, but that was just details…

* * *

The cell wasn't even barred; it was just like any other room- small and bare and with only one window looking out into the hallway, but other than that, fairly normal.

Not that Castiel was  _disappointed,_ as such… it just would have been exciting to rattle the bars and scream  _"I'm innocent!"_ at those passing by. In this place, all he could do was sit back on the single bench provided, lean his head against the wall, and try and ignore the severely inebriated young man staring at him from across the room.

"Gadreel."

Castiel snapped his head towards the stranger "E-Excuse me?"

"M'name's Gadreel…" He slurred "I despise these places."

So, to make matters worse, Castiel was enclosed with someone who was clearly  _quite familiar_ with prisons cells to the point where he could safely say that he 'despised these places' as if from experience.

"Supposed to be with my brother, Ezekiel." He continued "But… I appear to have made yet another mistake."

Castiel took pity on the stranger, if not to have at least  _something_ to do until Gabriel came to his rescue "The prophet?"

Gadreel hummed through his hands, which were now covering his face "Indeed."

"My name is Castiel, after the angel."

It took a moment for Gadreel to reply, but when he did, his eyes were red-rimmed "I'm afraid I lost my faith in God a long time ago, Castiel."

He quirked a smile "Yes, me too."

At this, Gadreel merely hunched up; face tired and taut with grief "I believe we all fall from His grace at one point or another."

Castiel didn't reply.

* * *

Sammy had been texting him all night, the little bitch. The messages had started off simple, polite- 'happy holidays', 'have a good year' and shit like that.

After around 8 o'clock, they'd quickly gone south and became frequent, irritating texts that kept Dean looking back at his phone every other minute just in case it happened to be the station or even Cas' brother-  _Gabriel, right?_

_"Deanie! Were r u?"_

_"So druuuuuuuuuunk…"_

_"Jerk."_

_"Think ur ignoring me on purpoise, huh?"_

Dean grimaced at the poor, drunken grammar; his brother wanted to be a big-shot lawyer with the fancy suits and brief cases, but he couldn't spell 'purpose'? Drunk or not, Dean was so gonna tease the crap out of him afterwards.

He shoved his phone back into his coat, trying to nudge the instinctive brotherly worries of where Sam was and who he was with to the back of his mind. Ellen and Jo were hosting their usual New Year's Eve party at the Road House and of course, he and Sammy had been invited. Dean still felt quite bitter over the fact that one of his best friends had blatantly ignored his calls and refused to offer a shoulder to cry on, but he honestly couldn't blame her for too long; he had a track record with this sort of thing. Before Cassie, there were girls and boys left, right and centre- some he forgot almost instantly, others he'd get hung up on for a few days (or weeks, if they were particularly hot) and always,  _always_ Dean would turn to his pals to moan about how life was never fair on him.

 _"You'll get over her, sooner or later, brother."_ Benny had reassured him after Lisa's untimely departure had hit him harder than most.

_"You always do."_

He sighed at the memory, never one to take pleasure in living in the past.

The station was a large, square building wedged between an abandoned pizza place and a dry cleaners. Despite his smug attitude and joy in living life on the edge, Dean had never once had to step into one of these places against his own will. There had been his dad – a drunken mess in the first few months after his coming out – but on the whole, the Winchesters were fairly clean. His mum had made sure of that and now, after what felt like a life time of just being himself and open to the world about his sexuality, both his parents were supportive.

"Evening." He greeted the officer at the desk as he pushed himself through the double doors.

She was round-faced and chirpy, blonde hair pulled back loosely into a bun and the remnants of a jam doughnut stuck to her lips.

"Oh, hey there!"

Dean grinned at the Minnesota accent "Hey, yourself. Busy tonight?"

The officer –  _Donna Hanscum,_ according to her badge – let out an exasperated sigh "Oh, you betcha… we've had some odd-balls in here, for sure."

"Yeah, New Year's Eve tends to bring out the nutters."

She hummed around a mouthful of doughnut, not bothering to swallow completely before asking "What can I help ya with, sir?"

Dean cleared his throat and smiled "Uh… I'm looking for a  _Castiel Novak_?"

* * *

Gadreel had gone silent after their brief introduction, only turning to wish Castiel a happy New Year when the sound of party poppers chorused down the hall and to mention that one of his wings was beginning to crumple against the wall. Needless to say, he'd flushed a dark shade of red and mumbled a thank you before rearranging himself on the bench.

"Novak!"

He looked up to find Henriksen's face peering through the window. A moment later, the door popped open, stirring Gadreel from his slumber as the officer stepped inside.

"You made bail."

Castiel scrunched his noise "Bail? But I haven't even made a phone call yet…"

"Tall fella, got a look of Rapunzel about him?"

He cursed the stupid smile that made his lips twitch; Dean  _did_ have a very pretty face, after all.

Then he snapped back into reality because –  _hello! –_ Dean Winchester had come to bail him out, and considering there was no way he could know he'd been arrested unless Gabriel had called him (which was extremely unlikely considering a) Gabe didn't have his number, and b) His brother wouldn't be so cruel as to send Dean to pick up, no matter  _how_ drunk he was), that could only mean one thing.

 _What a sadistic, insincere, cold-blooded_ ass-butt.

Henriksen rolled his eyes "Anytime today, Novak."

Castiel simply folded his arms and tried his luck at sinking back into the wall until it engulfed him. When his disappearing act didn't quite go to plan – his wings making an awful, crunching sound of protest beneath him – he pursed his lips.

"I refuse bail."

Henriksen's eyes widened momentarily before narrowing to near-slits "Well, it's  _your_  New Year's Eve you're throwing away."

The door slammed shut, followed by the rustling of locks and footsteps leaving down the hall. Castiel could feel Gadreel's eyes boring into his skull, but he honestly couldn't be bothered to return the gaze let alone explain his childish behaviour.

* * *

"He-  _what_?" Dean's voice trembled through the otherwise quiet station"He can actually refuse my bail?!"

The officer looked tired, like he'd gone over this a thousand times before. He much preferred Donna with the wide smile and free doughnuts; this  _Henriksen_ was a dick.

"Yes, sir. The guy does  _not_ wanna see you."

Dean stood his ground "I just need to talk to him, alright?"

"Hey, this isn't Alcatraz. He'll be out by morning, rest assured."

"But I need to talk to him  _now_!"

"Not my problem!" Henriksen shot back "You can only visit during visiting hours. And if – and  _only_ if – the person  _actually_  wants to see you… which I'm gonna guess he  _doesn't,_ being that he'd rather remain locked in jail than see your face."

" _Wow…_ rude."

Henriksen waved off the insult "We made a call to his emergency contact about an hour ago. His brother's on the way."

As if on cue, a short man with honey-gold eyes and a mop of dirty blonde hair flicked over his head barged into the station. A ridiculously large lollipop was tucked underneath his armpit and he was wearing some cheap, plastic-looking jewellery as well as a lopsided crown.

"The party has arrived!"

Surprisingly, it wasn't  _his_  flamboyant introduction that startled Dean- no, it was the man who followed close by with long hair curtaining his face and hazel eyes inspecting the room before landing on him and-

_"Dean?!"_

He ignored the pointed glare from the midget and raised an eyebrow "Sammy? What the hell! I thought you said it was a onetime thing between you two?!"

"Uh… aha, well-"

"Hey, Dean-o!" The guy who Dean  _presumed_ was Gabriel slapped him on the back "Aren't you the guy who broke my lil' bro's heart?"

Dean stiffened "Look, man-"

"Save it, Indie. I'm gonna give you five seconds to haul ass outta here, or things will get messy."

Behind him, Dean could hear Henriksen snort before approaching the gang "Fellas! Please, is  _one_ of you gonna bail Novak out or am I gonna have to escort you all out of the building?"

"Yeah," Sam cleared his throat "Gabe's his emergency contact."

"Well, come this way, gentlemen…"

Dean stepped forward to follow, only to be stopped by a firm hand on his chest "Ah! Not you, Winchester."

He fixed a stony glare on Henriksen's smug expression before collapsing into one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room; he'd wait all night if got to see Cas' face in the end.

* * *

Gadreel was still staring, wide-eyed with bafflement at Castiel's face when Henriksen returned. He was presumably confused as to why  _anyone_ would choose to spend their New Year's Eve behind bars.

"Novak!" Henriksen spat through the cell window "How 'bout these guys? They  _special_ enough?"

Castiel shrugged off Gadreel's unnerving gaze and crept towards the door. Through the glass he could spot his brother, sucking enthusiastically on a lollipop the size of his head. He wasn't alone, of course; Sam Winchester (Castiel could tell by the familiar plaid and rough-around-the-edges look) was close on his tail, face screwed up in disgust at the unnatural slurping noises coming from his sort-of-maybe boyfriend.

Gabriel caught his eye "Hey, bro!"

He'd never been more pleased to hear those words before.

Henriksen rolled his eyes at Castiel's insistent nodding and unlocked the door, casting Gadreel a sharp glare as he stepped aside.

"Oh, excuse me just a minute." Castiel felt some sort of obligation towards his cell-mate and as he turned to face him, he was hit with a sudden regret for not trying to get to know the man better "I'm sure your brother will understand; we all mistakes, Gadreel. It's one of the far more  _unfortunate_ aspects of humanity."

Gadreel didn't smile or nod, simply stared back before answering quietly "I take back what I said earlier. Men like yourself always seem to restore my faith… so thank you."

It wasn't much – they weren't all going to sit in a circle and sing Kumbaya – but at least he could walk out of a cell with his head held high, knowing that he made someone else's night just a  _little_ bit better.

* * *

Making your way down a twisty-turny staircase in a pure white building was never a pleasant experience when your head was still throbbing with the aftertaste of alcohol. Castiel clutched onto his stomach defensively as Henriksen pressed a hand to the small of his back and led him towards the exit, followed by Gabriel and Sam who were busy whispering about something Castiel was too bummed to care about.

As they reached the last step, they were confronted by a rather-flustered Dean Winchester whose green eyes were fixed solely on the dark hair and stubble trudging dismally towards him.

"Cas-"

"Please, Dean… I am tired and I just want to go home." Castiel muttered.

Behind them, Gabriel was trying to force the lollipop down Sam's throat, who was insisting that he "Wasn't going to lick that thing after your mouth's been all over it!" Gabriel merely stating that it was no different to swapping saliva when he had his tongue down his throat, which shortly shut the younger Winchester up.

Dean glanced over Castiel's shoulder and raised an eyebrow "Earlier, you were too drunk to spell  _purpose_ and now you're giving the bitch face to end-all-bitch-faces? What had you sobered up so soon?"

Sam flushed "Spending an hour in the car with Gabriel will sober anyone up."

There was a bark of laughter from the smaller man before Castiel interrupted the conversation with an insistent cough "If that's all you have to say for yourself, I'd like to get past now, please…"

"No, Cas I- I was a dick, alright? A complete a-and utter  _douchebag_ … But, I can't let you leave this building without hearing me out!"

"That's not for you to decide, Winchester." Henriksen glared at him from a distance, but stayed where he was all the same.

"Yeah, yeah… alright, OK. I got it. I just- Please,  _listen_ to me, Cas!"

There was pause- everyone in the building – including the cluster of anonymous cops whispering in the background – eagerly awaited Castiel's reply. Even the hustle and bustle of New Year's Eve (which, granted, had eased up in the last hour) was put on hold momentarily.

Castiel fidgeted under the scrutiny, hunched his shoulders and glared at Dean "Fine… 10 minutes, that's all I'll allow."

He turned sharply and collapsed against the bottom step of the stairs, eyes narrow and lips pursed.

It was all down to this one moment, Dean realized. Sam and Gabe were crowded around Cas like his personal bodyguards (though, Sam looked like an extremely uncomfortable moose), Henriksen leant against Donna's office, groaning at how her whole body was practically hanging out the window to watch the events unfold, and Castiel and Dean were simply staring each other down, as per-usual.

"OK…" Dean took a step forward, careful not to scare him off too quickly "I know I was a dick, alright? I shoulda told you about Cassie as soon as I start  _feeling_ for you. But, I was coward."

Sam was wearing a pained expression- only his brother knew how sincere these words were, especially considering how much he'd cared about his ex.

"I just wanted a quick, forgetful one night stand. It's sick and it's immature a-and it's  _selfish_ … but I just wanted something,  _anything_ to prove that I couldn't be broken. I didn't want to be broken, Cas. Guess I didn't realize that I was already crumbling…"

Castiel's eyes were bright liquid, peering up at him like a lost puppy "Why this, Dean? This was just cruel and you know it."

" _I know_ … I know, OK. I'm sorry, man. I didn't have your number, your address, y-you're frickin' place of occupation, I- what was I supposed to do?! I found your stupid tie in Jesse's room and, I dunno, I wasn't  _thinking_ straight!" He licked his "But I spent two nights with you – the best  _goddamn_  nights of my petty existence – and that just wasn't enough. I need more time…"

The station was silent- blue melting into green, their gaze blurring out the world around them.

"Give me more time."

"Well," Gabriel clapped his hands, skipping forward to sling an arm around Dean "I kinda like the guy, Cassy. He looks like the Ken-does-lumberjack special edition, but hey! He's got pretty eyes. Speech was a little wobbly, but he's only human. Whaddya think?"

Castiel screwed his eyes shut, head shaking ever-so-slightly before pushing himself up and heading for the exit "I think you put me in jail…"

"Are we still on that? C'mon! I promise you, one day, you're gonna laugh about this!"

The older man stilled, turned to face Dean and clenched his fists "How about this: you leave, and as soon as the situation has me laughing, I'll ask your brother for your number and I'll be in contact."

His words were icy cold- this was  _Castiel_  they were talking about. There'd be no laughter.

Dean swallowed thickly and ducked his head. As he made his way through the doors, he was surprised to that see even  _Gabriel_  was looking upset. Henriksen was awkwardly soothing a sobbing Donna whilst Sam offered a sad smile and meagre wave to his heartbroken brother.

His watch read 12:49. He hadn't even been able to give him a New Year's kiss.

* * *

"Stay as long as you want," Henriksen sighed "That guy was crazy…"

Sam spoke with him quietly before he disappeared down the hallway, leaving Castiel, Gabriel and a rather awkward, out-of-place Winchester sitting in the waiting room.

Castiel was fiddling with his wings absentmindedly, suddenly wishing he'd worn his trenchcoat to shield his bare skin from the midnight chill. The station was warm enough, which he was thankful for. Still not as warm as Dean's embrace, however…

"I could a drink a beer or two with that guy." Gabriel shrugged.

"Who?  _Henriksen?_ "

"What? No! Your pal,  _Dean-o_ , of course!"

Castiel groaned "Please, Gabriel. Can we not discuss this?"

"Uh…  _yes_ , we  _can_ discuss this." Sam winced at his partner's forwardness, brushing the hair from his face and huffing like a pre-teen in the corner "You and Sammy's big bro have  _serious_  UST."

"I- excuse me?"

"It means unresolved sexual tension, Cas." Sam butted in "Though, I kinda got the impression that it was pretty much resolved last night…"

Gabriel snorted- Sam appeared to be extremely uncomfortable talking about his brother's sex life and his face contorted involuntary into an expression of complete and utter dismay.

"What does dream-boy look like when he's sleeping, hey? Is he a snorer?"

A strangled moan escaped Castiel's lips "Dean Winchester takes on the likeness of a roman God whilst in slumber…"

Sam groaned, his head falling into his hands as Gabriel patted his back mockingly.

The conversation was suddenly interrupted by a blonde woman who nudged Castiel's shoulder rather enthusiastically. Her face was bright with a smile that curled to meet the bottoms of her ears and crinkled her eyes. She seemed nice.

"Hey, there! Name's Donna. Nice to meetcha!" She grabbed Castiel's clammy hands in a forceful handshake that had his whole body trembling "I was asked to hand this over by the handsome fella who just left… kinda like a happy surprise! But, um… situation kinda went south when you  _rejected him._ " She whispered the last words into Castiel's ear, like it was secret.

A balloon was shoved into his hands, weighed down by a small, blue parcel with a sad face printed on the base.

"Uh, thank you?"

Donna grinned like an idiot before scampering off to her desk to "work".

"What the heck is that?" Gabriel asked around the lollipop in his mouth.

The balloon was fairly simple in design- the word's "I'm sorry" were plastered on the front in large, sparkly letters. Quite a pathetic attempt at an apology, Castiel thought sullenly to himself.

"What's an…  _ass-butt_?" Sam wrinkled his nose.

"What?"

Sure enough, as his fingers fiddled with the string of the balloon, it twisted around to reveal the final message – "I'm an ass-butt" – printed on the back (well, more like stuck on with paper and glue, but that wasn't important).

It was sudden and impulsive, the laughter that bubbled in his chest and wriggled itself out in short, breathless snickers which later dwindled to a quiet chuckle as he ran his fingers over the letters.

When he looked up, Sam's eyes were wide and Gabriel's face was twisted with supressed giggles. They shared a knowing smirk before turning back to Castiel and raising their eyebrows simultaneously. It was almost endearing, if not creepy.

"Oh." Castiel frowned "I… I believe I need your brother's contact information, Sam."

The pair just burst into laughter.

* * *

The streets were cold and lonely and fucking  _miserable._

Dean had finally said goodbye to his long-time partner  _and_  the man he was falling for all in one day, and it kinda sucked. Knowing that his brother was shacked up with the older Novak made it worse, in a way. A part of him wondered if their relationship would give him future access to Cas, but then he remembered how he'd looked at him and how  _hurt_ he was.

Truth was, he didn't deserve Castiel.

His phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket, which he fished out rather sluggishly "Yep?"

"Hello, Dean."

He froze. It was that voice- that stupidly unnatural husky voice that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Cas?!"

"I received your balloon… I believe I promised to call if and when I laughed about the situation, so-"

And then his legs were carrying him, further and faster than they had done in quite a while. He lost count of how many times his boots slipped upon a particularly icy patch or a stray snowflake got caught on his nose as he ran. His surroundings melted away- the stares, the warnings, the drunken laughter. It was just him with a destination, one he wasn't prepared to leaving waiting any longer.

The police station was soon in sight, the milky glow of the streetlamps illuminating the front of the building. He spotted his giant-of-a-brother immediately, leaning awkwardly against a bench with his ridiculously long legs entwined with Gabriel's (kinda gross, but not important right now).

What really mattered was the lean figure wrapping his arms around his chest, a mop of dark hair tickling his forehead and blue eyes staring at the road ahead. He was deep in thought, it seemed- probably reconsidering his decision having decided that  _no_ , Dean Winchester was  _not_ worth his time  _or_ forgiveness. He should probably turn back now and save them both the misery-

"Dean."

Castiel's eyes were on him- bright and apprehensive. Sam gave his brother a small, knowing smile before nudging Gabriel, who leapt off the bench as if being woken from a week's long rest.

"Hey, Dean-o."

Dean raised a hand to the older Novak politely.

"You gonna be alright, Cassy?"

Castiel's lips quirked into a half-smile as he turned to face his elder sibling "Yes, I hope so." He then gave a curt nod to Sam "Thank you… for everything."

They left, each casting long glances over their shoulders until finally disappearing around a corner. It wouldn't be surprising if they were both listening in, somehow; if there was one thing that Dean had established from his five minutes of knowing Gabriel, it was that he was bound to be a bad influence. A real trickster, one might say.

* * *

Neither one of them said anything as they started down the snowy, abandoned street. The sky was pure, midnight black to contrast with the never-ending blaze of white surrounding them- like one of those semi-abstract canvases when there was more than meets the eye. Even the various cardboard buildings jutting out amongst the dark provided a certain quality to the silent, New Year stroll.

They walked for hours, shoes crunching in the snow and hips bumping less-than-accidently against one another as they went. Side-glances were exchanged and unspoken words flitted between the lines of non-existent conversation- a silent melody drifting through the night.

Finally, Castiel stopped, tugged on Dean's sleeve gently and turned "Did you really not expect for this to be more than a one-night stand?"

"No," Dean sighed "I guess I, uh… I didn't expect to find  _you_."

The older man smiled, slapping a hand against his shoulder playfully  _"Cheese ball."_

"Did you seriously just say  _cheese ball_?" Dean snorted "What are you,  _five_?"

"I'm older than you."

"Bitch."

"Ass-butt."

Dean's grin slipped away, his head hanging "Seriously… man, I can't- you will never understand how much I-  _Damn it_ …"

"I forgive you, Dean."

Their eyes met, bodies leaning in like magnets as hands found another, knees brushing and lips softly pouted…

_"SHIT!"_

Dean's foot found a slippy patch. His legs separating like scissors as his body quickly floundered and slunk to the ground, bringing Castiel along with him. They winced as the snow stung their cheeks and numbed their lips, laughing like a bunch of schoolboys.

"I guess," Castiel gasped between strangled cries of laughter "You really have fallen for me."

Dean threw his back, clutching his chest for breath.

"Nerd."

He slung his jacket around the older man, pulling him forward into a desperate kiss which soon softened into something far more intimate. As they continued their journey with steady steps, their lips never once abandoned one another. A promise that they'd never be alone again.

* * *

What happened after that was pretty much anticipated.

Castiel gathered the courage to slam Dean against the wall and show off his skills via the pizza man. Dean had taught him not to fear the unpredictability of his heart, which tended to go heavy on the backflips when his hands brushed against the exposed skin of younger man's collar. It was a little late, but they got their New Year's kiss in the end.

When they stumbled into Castiel's apartment early hours of the morning, Meg had died her hair blonde and was covered in pretzels on the couch. One straggler was found in the bathtub. They all ended up watching Takashi's Castle until 5 am.

It would be precisely three months and five days before Dean asked him to move in, during which time Castiel had finally deleted Hannah's number, had an actual conversation with Sam Winchester  _and_  learnt what a  _Westley_ was. He'd even arranged to meet up with Balthazar – who, after losing his brother for far too long, had decided to strive towards a less-douchey nature – to talk and hopefully put the whole thing behind them. A part of him wanted some closure as far as Hannah was concerned, but he'd decided that that was thing of the past and not to be meddled with.

Dean, on the other hand, never saw Cassie again. A couple of weeks into the New Year, he'd come home to a half-empty house (which honestly didn't bother him at all) and a note of "Good luck and goodbye" left on the table. He'd managed to rid himself of the crap in his cupboards and dump them on Gabriel, who'd insisted that – being the  _lovely_ boyfriend he was – he would be able to keep the snacks in his own kitchen. Dean wasn't feeling particularly cruel, however, and decided to let his mum keep on believing that Sam was the equivalent of a human rabbit who never touched anything remotely garbage.

He later prevented Castiel from throwing the beaten-up wings from the New Year's Eve party in the bin. His mother was a believer of sorts, hence the nickname "feathery-ass" during their first conversation because  _of course_ he knew of the angel Cassiel. They'd come to a silent understanding that Dean Winchester – as macho and independent as he was – found comfort in knowing that he wasn't the only one expected to keep up the fight. He had his angel by his side.

As for the Impala? Well, Castiel never asked about its importance ever again. From the moment Dean presented the black beauty to his partner, no explanation was needed. Castiel soon realized that the sappy smile of appreciation and pride was reserved solely for his Baby.

That was until Castiel made a successful  _The Empire Strikes Back_ reference at the Christmas party the following year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this story! All comments and Kudos will be much appreciated :)


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